The Ones Who Lived
by AoifeDarkllove
Summary: The Chief Team has prevailed in their newfound responsibility, as they return to repeat the year they lost defeating the Circle of Cavan. They have never met the Blackthorne Boys, and family ties come to ruin all; how will the Chief Team cope? Do they stand strong united? Or do they trap themselves alone? Oh, and yes. Curiosity killed the cat.
1. Chapter 1: Pen vs Sword - REPLACED CHAP

**Chapter One: The Pencils are mightier than the Sword**

Whoever said a pen was mightier than a sword was on the right track. Well, in my case it was a pencil, but same difference.

I hoisted myself up onto the helicopter already three feet off the ground and collapsed onto the deck, my legs dangling lifelessly over the edge.

I lay there, dead to the world, heaving great pants as we rose shakily into the crisp, night air.

"Chama?! You good?!" yelled a voice somewhere to my left.

Why wasn't my comms working?

I half-heartedly raised my arm in affirmation, a strangled grunt escaping my mouth as I regained my breath.

This shit was hard.

I briefly wondered why I was doing this, but then I remembered the payment.

My mouth watered as margarita pizza floated into my mind and I was sure I went cross eyed.

I began to sit up after a few more moments of heaving my lungs, only to be shoved back down again by what felt like solid, steel poles. I struggled with my eyes to make out the figure obstructing my free will; only to be greeted by more blurriness.

I accepted defeat as I slumped back to the deck, restrained by two, thin, steel poles on my shoulders.

"Pea, I think Chama has a concussion!" yelled twig-poles over the roar of the motor blades.

"Pizza..."

"And she's delirious!"

"Are you sure?!" Pea replied, her voice far away and extremely doubtful.

"She just mumbled 'pizza'!"

"If the next word out of her mouth is-"

"M-m-margarita..." I stuttered in my haziness, vocalising my reward to retain my will to continue in this line of work.

"-then she's fine!"

I faintly heard a grumble come from the figure above me, but annoyance flashed through me as my eyelids were forced painfully open and a light was shone in my eye.

My eyes began to water and I reattempted my struggle for freedom.

"She's got a concussion guys!"

She was met with an acknowledging silence as she proceeded to assault my other eye with that God-forsaken light.

I made a mental reminder to destroy it later on.

" 'meleon, when did something hit your head? Did you headbutt someone, or did you hit your head, or what?!"

I realised that even though this person had restrained me with painful steel poles and harassed my eyes with a torch, they meant well.

"Headbutted..." I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut again to force out the threatening headache.

"Cams... that's the third time this week!" shouted the first voice, Bex I think. She must have heard me through twig-pole's, which I now realised was Liz, microphone on her headset, as she was surprisingly close to my face.

My forehead creased again in annoyance.

"...Wasn't my fault this time!... I think..."

I, yet again, tried to sit up, only to be greeted by the not-as-surprising-anymore shove, that forced me to the deck again.

"You've got to stay still Cams! Don't fall asleep and don't move!"

I mumbled incoherently as I turned to my side.

.oO0Oo.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful, save for the regular sharp pinches that Liz gave me to keep me awake.

The throbbing in my head intensified as I felt our downward descent, as if I was in an extremely loud elevator. We touched down and I immediately felt two arms dig underneath me and scoop me up effortlessly, and I snuggled into the unknown familiarity. I couldn't yet place their name or their legacy, but I was sure I knew them.

I caught snippets of conversation as the scenery around me began to shake and blur, the environment changing quickly.

"... headbutt... delirious... IV line... bed now!" I heard before being slipped onto a mattress and a pillow. I attempted to sink into the mattress, but fell into slumber before I could process the words.

.oO0Oo.

 _Beep, beep._

I awoke to the sound of beeping. Big surprise there. It was the kind that pisses you off, but you have no energy to change.

 _Beep, beep._

The kind where you wait hopefully that that beep is the last you ever hear, but are consistently disappointed when it rings fresh through the air.

 _Beep, beep._

I was seriously considering stopping my heartbeat for the incessant beeping to cease, when the monitor's saviour walked in.

He was clad in white shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled up and a _very_ loose tie, hanging almost down to his navel. My forehead creased as I saw him slump into the chair and rub his forehead with his forefinger and thumb.

As I slowly turned my head to observe him, I became aware of three figures comfortably wedged on the surprisingly large bed. Liz lay snuggled on my feet while Bex and Macey had sandwiched myself in the middle.

But while the comforting feeling of warmth and snugness felt like heaven, hell began to roll in, bearing the damned form of pins and needles.

I shifted uncomfortably, causing Liz to roll gracefully to the edge of the bed, her arm jutting out over the foot of the mattress.

The man's head jerked up and observed the struggle I bore, fighting for release under the taut covers held down by three surprisingly immovable weights. He got up, lifted Macey like a rag doll, and placed her on the bed adjacent to mine.

I tumbled from the confines of my admittedly rather comfortable prison, and fell splat on the floor. I gasped as my leg came into contact with the cold floor, pins and needles coursing through my veins.

Gritting my teeth I curled into the foetal position as the man walked back to the chair. He saw me in pain and immediately crouched by my side.

"What?! What's wrong?!"

"P-pins 'n n-needles-" I gasped.

Bemusement and disbelief enveloped his face as he straightened and lowered himself back into the complimentary chair.

I waited for the agonisingly pathetic pain to pass, before straightening up and leaning against the bed frame.

"What?", asked, confused by Joe's silent demeanour. It wasn't a new thing, but always remained intriguing. God forbid the day I know what's running through his mind.

"They found traces of diphenhydramine and monosodium glutamate in your airway. " he put bluntly.

Huh. I guess that day is not today.

I ran through all the known chemicals to me that contained long and complicated strings of letters and had any side affects off inhalation. I saw none. Now, Liz on the other hand, seemed to be stirring, either because her lack of support (my feet and legs), or because of the mere sound of complicated names and facts being thrown around in her immediate area. I felt more inclined to the latter.

My blank expression said it all, from the confusion to Liz's expected awakening.

"They're drugs linked to memory loss..."

Linked doesn't necessarily mean set in stone, rock-hard knowledge.

"They're the key ingredients in our special, homemade 'tea'."

My confidence faltered.

"You mean I was made to forget something." The question slipped past my tongue as a statement rather than a question.

He nodded slowly, as if finally accepting it himself.

He didn't even have to ask, I immediately started to sift through the events of a few hours ago, last night or last week, I didn't know yet.

YŶY

The helicopter began its descent and I readied myself for my jump. Bex was suited similarly to my left, fidgeting with the suit she wore, adjusting it to _'just right'_.

Apparently, _'just right'_ changed every 8 seconds.

We neared 200 feet and Macey yelled the warning. We were jumping because landing and taking off too much time, and if this went according to plan, we would be done, waiting for Macey to pick us up while we sat twiddling our thumbs on the front doorsteps of our targets abode.

Not to mention that the abode in question, or mansion to be more precise, was filled to the brim with spies in training and old legends that were still capable of a lot more than you thought.

Our target was a simple hit and run, one of the very new quotas that fit our job descriptions, due to curriculum changes.

"100 feet!"

45 seconds.

Our target, a Mr Lucas Jefferson, resided in the Blackthorne Institute for Troubled Boys. Or, if you prefer, Blackthorne Institute for Spy's and Assassins. Doesn't matter; either will do and either fit the bill.

"90 feet!"

25 seconds.

They were the hidden twin school of Gallagher, just for boys. It was truly perfect place for hiding; a near impossible breach.

Nearly.

"85 feet!"

I crouched down along with Bex, gripping the edge of the deck, the wind whipping at my fingers. I looked like a swimmer preparing to launch themselves into the water, the race.

"80 feet!"

We leant back, still hooking our fingers over the edge.

"75 feet! Go, go, go!"

I launched myself from the decking, throwing myself at a 200 degree angle, slightly tipped forward till I cleared the helicopter and soared. Now I didn't have those wing things under my arms, they would hinder my ability to fight, so I had to use my momentum to not drop out of the sky like a stone. I slowly tilted myself so I was facing a more headfirst approach to the earth than a belly flop, the wind tearing at my clothes, fighting to veer me off course. I neared the tree line, picked a space to land and tucked into a somersault, landing and absorbing the impact through my whole body rather than my feet. I came up standing.

I smiled in triumph, glancing at Bex who was already securing the perimeter for any threats. I scanned my area and found thee backpacks filled with necessary items for survival as well as additional weaponry and gadgets. They were extras for the Cov. Ops. and necessary items for us to survive if the Op went sour and we didn't get back to the helicopter in time.

I climbed a tree and stuffed the medical backpack along with the survival one in the branches, out of sight from below and above, and easily identifiable due to the broken, dead branch underneath. I jumped down, and walked over to Bex, who was ruffling through the last backpack like a man digging for gold. She silently handed me a comms unit and choker with a camera attached to it and I fitted into my ear and around the high collar of my neck respectively.

I reassessed the knives strapped to my body, counting them and strapped a gun to my hips in case things went sour.

"We ready to go?" rang Bex's determined voice, clear through the relatively quiet clearing.

I finished my assessment and nodded. We began our long run to the grounds.

.oO0Oo.

"This is were you wish me good luck, Duch." I stated, as she dug the screwdriver out of her pocket while I held the small device to the door access point. It was controlled by a pin, and required a small device to be attached in order for Liz to hack the mainframe.

Bex approached with the tool in hand and proceeded to bolt the cover back into place over the device, while Liz tapped away in our ears.

"Is that so, huh?" she replied dryly.

"Mmmhhhmmmm." I replied earnestly, giving her my big seal eyes.

It didn't work.

"It's not as if you need it, Chama." she said, straightening up. She began to fix her suit again while I pouted at her.

She abruptly stopped and began to run through the now open door. "Good luck

Chameleon!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"Ditto." I murmured, smiling at her antics.

The blue prints sprang to life before my eyes, the walls becoming a sea of blue vastness and white lines.

 _Left, right... left, left, stairs- stop, wait. Go, camera, left wall. Right, more stairs, scan, right, straight-Stop_. Footsteps.

Fuckerdoodles.

I scanned the walls frantically, looking for anything, thinking of everything.

 _This building was old._

And?

 _The paintings._

I glanced at the paintings.

"Chameleon!"

I winced in the silence, briefly forgetting that Footsteps couldn't hear Liz.

"I know, I know!" I hissed.

 _They're old._

Well done, congratulations, you can see Cammie.

I really wondered why I ever listened to my subconscious.

What the hell do-

 _Culture and Assimilation._

Ahhhh. That's why.

I darted to the nearest painting, containing a regal and rich ugly man with a eye glass and ripped the edge from the wall. Thank god someone still oiled the hinges.

I slipped into the old servants passageway and held my breath. The painting was open a crack, letting the cursed light deep through. I heard Footsteps (what I nicknamed him) turn the corner and make his way down the hall.

I prayed and prayed that he didn't stop, that he walked onwards and disregarded an ancient painting.

He didn't.

Shitcakes.

I saw the two obstructions of light under the doorframe, or paint-frame, slim slightly, indicating that he was directly facing me.

I backed into the passage, hugging the right wall as much as I could, sinking into the shadows as the painting was pulled open slowly and a figure stood in the entrance.

I didn't look, I held my breath and turned my head away, pleading, _help me, god. I know I have never prayed to you before-._

The light vanished.

 _And I shall continue to do so!_

I sank to the floor, and breathed. I had to extend the length of time I could hold my breath.

"Chameleon?" came Liz's voice.

"Mmm?"

"You good?"

"Mmmhhmmm."

Whistling went through the comms as Liz breathed out, and I clearly envisioned Macey and Bex flinching.

"Anyone coming my way, Bookworm?"

"Negative. You're good for about two and half minutes."

I pushed open the surprisingly well oiled painting and peeked out. I observed the cameras as they finished swivelling away from the painting. Completely on their own; no interference at all.

Sense the sarcasm? It's a tough life, living in my head.

I continued chanting my route in my head, and met no resistance or anymore close calls.

I eventually arrived at the teachers quarters, and I replaced the walls for thick white lines and blue canvasses. I didn't not want to walk in on a highly trained operative who was not under my charge.

 _Surprise, surprise_ I thought, as his room was on the end of the string of doors. I took a deep breath and checked the hinges to see if they displayed any signs of rust before turning the handle and pushing the door inwards.

Silent.

I still didn't dare let out my breath.

A bed was situated in the corner, but was devoid of all life. Save for the carelessly stashed pillows under the covers, depicting a man with incredible deformity and what seemed like a large potbelly with a six pack.

I scoffed soundlessly and rubbed my own cleverly disguised six pack with my hand affectionately, offended by the mockery.

I then turned back to the events at hand.

I began to tap my comms unit in Morse code.

"Where is he?"

I waited for Liz to register the message and was not disappointed when she replied.

"He should be in the room... I'm not sure why he's not there. He should be at your 3 o'clock."

"Empty bed." I tapped back

"Unless... he's beneath you."

I looked around for a lever or passageway.

I glanced at the cupboard. Bingo.

I heard, both through my earpiece and my own ears, an explosion ring out.

Bex' voice began floating through the comms. "I'm on my way back, Bookworm. You're gonna have to direct me, I can hear people everywhere."

I heard Liz start to direct Bex from the explosion site, before I tuned them out. I needed to focus.

Bex' job was to create a decoy. I could not have anyone finding me here, about to murder the Vice Headmaster. Not a good conversation starter. She had planted an explosive on the east of the school, while I was in the south.

Once the explosion was heard, the first reaction would to be to send one group to the site and a larger group to the opposite side of the school. Most decoys would be placed far from the desired point, so the opposite made the most sense. But we were taking a risk placing one so near to where I was.

I stepped inside the empty cupboard and discovered that it was designed similarly to the one me and Macey took to escape the school as fugitives last year; a small lever, more of a flip switch really.

I shot down the tube, landing roughly about 30 feet from where I started. I touched down in a spacious cavern, reminding me horribly of the tombs, dark, cold and lit with torches. I shivered. Very Stone Age.

"I suppose you've come to kill me."

Cue evil villain.

"No, I've come to order Chinese." I responded, turning to the voice sharply.

I heard Macey snicker in my ear but I ignored it. Liz gasped and strayed to say something when she was interrupted by Mr Jefferson.

"Sarcasm is the weaponry of the weak."

He's one of those. The ones with a quote for everything, a stereotype for anything.

"It's the weaponry of the witty."

He sighed, as troubled by a young child.

I didn't come here to exchange quips.

I saw movement.

"Chameleon, there's about 25 operatives in that room! Their heat signatures suddenly appeared!"

That's why it's cold.

"I see you've come prepared."

"Oh yes, I've been expecting this. It was more of a matter of 'when' rather than 'if'."

I assessed my chances; twelve knives, twenty five people, and a few tables littered around the room with tins of pencils. Sharp pencils. I fell into a hunters stance.

"Go."

And go I did.

I'm not proud of it.

It was gruesome, but I held a certain degree in my heart reserved for those in the circle. I'd seen what they did. Worse, I saw what they aspired to do.

My knives flashed as I remembered the baby's wails in Caspia, how quickly they cut off. Almost like a canary in the mines.

 _Kick, slash, block, roll, throw..._ I delved through the memories as I imagined every agent in the room as a problem in my life, a factor set to ruin it, aimed to destroy the ones around me, simply because I was an inquisitive child. Not even that anymore, I guess I held a certain place in their hearts as well now.

The entire ordeal of last year was founded on logic and reasoning, I had to give them that, despite them being cruel, but it ended in personal. There was no way that this wasn't personal anymore.

The last man fell, crumpled to the ground, as I surveyed the damage. I had pencils in my grip, lightly dusted with red. I must have grabbed them when I threw the last of my daggers. That was pretty early on as I used most of them before they even closed in on me, throwing them like darts and destructive frisbees.

I turned to the Vice, determination peeling off me in waves. It was over quickly, I couldn't stand to see his disgusted face, but it wasn't enough, the guilt set in, told hold and began its magic. I felt the cold grip of horror clutching my mind.

 _Murderer, murderer, murderer..._

Every assassins weak point. The sane ones anyway.

They deserved it, I insisted fighting back as I tore my gaze from the broken figure underneath me, pencil '2B' jutting from his neck.

I went through all of the trauma techniques I knew, my guilt slowly creeping away. It sounds pathetic and unjust, I know. A few words fighting back the onslaught of the most powerful weapon there is and will ever be; you must think that I wasn't truly sincere about my guilt, but the words we have are all different; conditioned especially for this. The most prominent feature of my retaliation being a baby's wail. It must be your most powerful memory, designed indirectly for the situation. It must be your drive.

I hauled myself out off my despair as a voice pierced the air. But I don't know what they said, because the next thing I knew, I was stumbling though the woods, aiming for the helicopter taking flight. I reached the bar and hoisted myself up onto the deck, my legs hanging lifelessly...

ŶYŶ

Fuck.

 **Thank you for reading, I've been thinking of doing something like this for a while now. It felt like the first draft was very childish and lacked a lot of plot. Anyways I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **BYE ;)**


	2. Chapter 2: Dangerous Wishes - REPLACED

**Chapter Two: Be Careful What You Wish For**

Einstein once said, "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."

World War Four was currently taking place in my brain, giving me an ear-splitting headache and an intense case of nausea.

I wracked my mind, clawing away at my memory, trying to fill in the worryingly high amount of gaps. I didn't work.

I switched course.

"When am I? I asked Joe, breaking out of his reverie, as I rose from the floor and began to stretch out my sore muscles.

"You returned at eleven thirty seven 'pm', you were in surgery for two and a half hours, and asleep for a further three, so it's seven past five now." he replied getting up and collapsing on my bed. I suppose he did not get any sleep while I was out.

I reset my internal clock, and wrote a to do list. It was always something I did when in hospital.

-Destroy torch

-Ask why comms wasn't working.

-Ask if Liz managed to record anything before my comms cut off or heard any of the conversation between me and John Doe.

-Write a report Ask Liz to try and find a chemical that uncovers memories.

"Where's our equipment?" I asked the almost silent room. I glanced at Joe as his slack mouth produced a startling snore, rivalling even that of Bex.

.oO0Oo.

After stripping myself of all the needles, glaring at the offending heart monitor for a good two minutes, destroying the torch that attacked my eyes and writing a lengthy report on the Cov Ops mission, I set out to find the others.

I began humming a song I didn't know the name of in Macey's playlist with a slow tune.

It might have been her whale music, I'm not sure.

I searched the compound thoroughly, kicking myself for not checking the canteen first. My girls were always hungry.

I plopped down at their table in the middle of the room and took a big bite of the donut Bex was bringing to her lips, ignoring the distasteful glare from Macey. Bex began to protest, but shut her mouth when I glared at her, and returned to the second one on her plate. It was gone in seconds, as if daring me to steal it.

I blissfully ate my donut in silence, waiting for Liz to return from getting food and scanning the room. Agents were littered here and there, all dressed in varying attire, either writing reports, or simply sleeping off jet lag on the plump sofas. This was pretty much a common room for every type of agent, male or female, old or young, research or active.

I saw Eva Alvarez and Tina Walters stumble in, their eyes locked on the huge 5 seater sofa in the corner and slump down simultaneously, heads resting on either arm rest. They were out like lights.

Both were dressed in Indian attire, so I guessed they just returned from their long-haul mission from the Indian Government.

They had left a few weeks ago, at the beginning of summer break, posing as the new secretary's for the Secretary of State in India. Eva was in charge of disguise (the needed to look like a native, and applying brown spray tan perfectly had only been mastered by Eva and Macey so far), while Tina had to assassinate the Secretary of State covertly.

He had been planning on violating the Nuclear Doctrine of August 1999, specifically their 'retaliation only' policy, stating that they will only use their nuclear power for deterrence.

This rule was later changed from the "no first use" rule to "no first use against non-nuclear weapon states", in 2010. Mister Secretary then tried his hardest to convince the Prime Minister to make a move on Pakistan since then, but the Minister stayed firm, despite the escalating tension.

It got to a point where the Secretary's assistant found out about his boss's desire to take matters into his own hands, and took it to her sister in the Directorate of Revenue Intelligence. They dabble in prosecution cases, but aren't proficient, so she asked a friend in Langley a favour, and boom! There Eva and Tina are.

Don't ask me how I know this, we're all a very close group of gals.

"I wonder what Tina used on the Secretary." I wondered aloud.

"She visited me before she left -" stated Liz as she walked up behind me, holding a plate piled with food. I turned to her as she continued, wiping all the sugar from my donut off my face. "- she took the serum that displays the symptoms of PCCD. Kim told me that she asked her then to hack his family records and add it in as an inherited heart condition."

"What's PCCD?" asked Macey.

Liz's head turned towards Macey as she addressed her, while she neatly lay a napkin on her lap. Madame Dabney would be proud.

"It stands for Progressive Cardiac Conducted Defect, and is a rare heart condition that means that the electrical impulses conducted in the heart are really slow. It can also disturb your heart rhythm by causing the electrical impulses to originate from the wrong places, rather than the sino-atrial node. It essentially means that it induces cardiac arrest"

Macey nodded, returning to her smoothie.

"It's quite similar to the Brugada Syndrome" she continued. "-in the fact that it can be caused by changes in the sodium channels in the heart." At this Macey frowned, and a wrinkle formed on her forehead.

"My aunt has Brugada Syndrome"

We all nodded in respect, while I shovelled down half of the food on Liz's plate, sans napkin. Once I finished, I asked "Did you guys hear what our John Doe said before my comms cut out?"

The effect was instantaneous.

They all swivelled their heads and stared at me.

"Cam... we talked about this earlier and... we have no idea what you did or what happened to you for about 7 minutes." stated Macey tentatively.

Don't freak out, don't freak out... I chanted in my head

"We think that the room that you found Jefferson in was designed to have a Faraday Cage built into the walls. Specifically an RF cage." said Bex. She did get the second highest grade on that paper of interrupting communication radiation waves.

They took my blank, resolute face for confusion and Liz continued to explain.

"The Faraday Cage...? Come on, Cammie, we did this in sophomore year. It interrupts radio waves with electromagnetic forces...? Ringing any bells here?"

I ceased my staring and rolled my eyes at Liz, eying the chocolate cake on her plate.

"How could I forget, you spent a week chanting the process setting one up and all the separate applications."

She smiled approvingly before snatching the cake away from my creeping hand.

Macey took over as Liz began to delicately eat with tiny mouthfuls.

"We did, however, hear a small portion of whatever John Doe said. And by small, I mean small."

Liz paused her eating and I turned my head to her, intrigued as to what Macey meant.

"We heard the first point-two seconds of speech before the signal was cut off." I slumped back into my chair. " I was able to analyse the first point two seconds of sound we received from your comms, and I think that our John Doe is actually a Jane Doe."

I looked at her. "The hertz was a hundred and eighty seven, just above the typical range of a males voice. Although, it is still pretty low for female standards, even if it is within the typical range for a woman."

"That just about narrows it down to about half of the worlds population." I said sarcastically, my hope diminishing as my tiredness grew.

I saw Liz twitch visibly as if wanting to correct me, but I caught her eye to say sorry silently, and she relaxed.

.oO0Oo.

We arrived at Gallagher quickly, only a half hour or so with Bex's driving, with me and Bex carrying Tina and Eva to their dorm. I shoved Eva onto her bed and, tucked her under the covers like a good person and left Bex to struggle.

I entered my room and fell into a blissful sleep.

.oO0Oo.

I woke up about an hour and half later, much to my disappointment when Annie woke my up by shoving our culture and assimilation project under my nose. The smell of parchment and oak varnish caused me to shoot up and literally fall off the bed, and onto Anna.

I glanced briefly at the paper in her hands before looking at a now winded Annie whom I was straddling. Macey chose that moment to walk in from the bathroom.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here ladies?" she asked seductively, raising a defined eyebrow as she applied mascara in the huge mirror next to her bed.

"I locked eyes with Cammie, and thought, 'I got to get me summa that!'" joked Annie, who was now eyeing me up appreciatively. I blushed and rolled my eyes.

"Yes well, your girlfriend will not be pleased, no matter how good I look in the morning!" I replied, rising and winking at her.

She pouted and said "Kimmy won't mind, she can share."

A distant death threat came floating down the hall from Ms Anonymous addressed to moi, causing us both to stop our banter, and get moving.

I later crashed down on the bench in the Grand Hall, shoving my plate away painfully, as I laid my C&A homework flat against the table. Annie sat adjacent to me, scribbling furiously with a pile of bacon in front of her. I eyed it and started to bring my hand towards it, before it got slapped away by a bony hand.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!" I yelled, nursing my hand. I garnered a few stray stares from the seventh graders. I glared at them.

"It's stimulation." she replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Now write!" she commanded.

I did not need to be told twice. So there we sat, Annie and I dazedly scribbling our essays, completely running on caffeine, one eye on our homework and one eyeing the bacon in front of us. I finished my last sentence in Japanese and practically screeched "DONE!" along with Annie.

The entire hall turned to look at us, but I certainly didn't care in the slightest as we wolfed down bacon strip after bacon strip.

Well, the entire hall didn't apparently consist of Bex and Mick, as they didn't even break their stride as they shared a detailed conversation of our recent mission. They chatted animatedly through the silence, describing the explosion Bex had created in their science labs, and the most efficient placing.

I began to lift the last piece of bacon to my lips when my mother stood on the podium and began to talk into the microphone. I audibly growled, and received a few stray stares of annoyance at my unusual behavior, and a death stare from Madame Dabney. I swear she has a bats hearing, which is highly likely due to the fact that she spends and awful lot of time volunteering to be Dr. Fibs test subject.

"Women of Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" she boomed into the microphone, hushing any whispers.

"We are the sisters of Gillian!"

"What do we do?!"

"Achieve the end of evil and the triumph of justice!"

"For how long do we strive?'l

"For all the days of our lives!"

We sat as we ended our mantra, and continued to stare at my mum.

It must have been unnerving.

Nonetheless, she didn't show it and continued with her announcement.

"Welcome back, pupils, I hope you all have had a good half term break. The beginning of the year has run smoothly, and I plan to keep it that way. Dr. Fibs Laboratory is temporarily out of bounds due to a failed experiment,"-

Liz choked on her apple.

""till further notice. All of his classes will be conducted in the spare lab on the second floor. Mr. Solomon will be returning to his post this year as Cov Ops teacher, and his classes will remain in the same place. That is all, please make your way to your next lessons.", her speech ended with the bell ringing, and I stared daggers at the back of her head.

Joe raised an eyebrow at me, and I turned my glare to him. He shook his head before turning away to Dr Fibs, who was talking sheepishly at him.

.oO0Oo.

I sat drumming my fingers in the dampened silence, waiting for Joe. As usual.

Our lessons now practically only consisted of frequent missions; small service jobs Langley required while Joe critiqued our style and approach in a slightly less cramped and completely stolen van.

But this was our second year with our altered curriculum. We became more skilled in the art of hunting. We were no longer a sole protector, but a predator.

We had mastered the role of Spy, but the world called for more of us, so here we are. The elite.

So naturally, we all wanted more. More work, more expectations, more danger, more excitement.

How popped his head round the door, in a far too humorous manner for his teaching etiquette, and simply stated, "Exam."

But, you will do good to remember, be careful what our wish for.


	3. Chapter 3: The Call

**Previously...**

Our lessons now practically only contained frequent missions; small service jobs Langley required while Joe critiqued our style and approach in a slightly less cramped and completely stolen van.

For once, Joe wasn't late, and was waiting for us behind his desk. He looked up and uttered two words that I now consider the beginning of everything. He had a fresh glint in his eye as he said,

"Field Trip."

 **Enjoy!**

Macey quickly began shoving us toward the door, gradually getting harsher and harsher with her ministrations. Looks of terror were spread on our faces and I calculated my options.

Knock Mackey out using the pressure point on her neck

Wait for Bex to finally get to her senses and create a diversion

Sneak away as soon as she pushed me from the door. ( I always was a fast runner)

The rest of the class stayed well and truly back, knowing from previous experience that it was best not to involve themselves. Let's just say, that was the day we learned how to use perfume samples from magazines and hair bands to knock out 14 girls in 24 seconds.

I was shoved unceremoniously out the door, barely keeping my feet underneath me, and began sprinting toward my mother's office. I was not prepared to go through 10 minutes of unnecessary torture, to try and look like a failing model, when in fact I needed to be a chameleon.

I had discovered a secret room, adjacent to my mother's office, that somehow penetrated the sound proof walls to her room. I had used it countless of times to obtain classified information when I was younger, but that wasn't necessary anymore.

High clearance makes life a hell of a lot easier; there's a lot less threatening, bribing and tears involved, as well as spider webs (Macey still has to come up with a way to make the disheveled-spider-web-look work).

Anyway, I always kept a spare stash of clothing and minimal makeup (instead of murdering me in the plane or van where I could escape, I would be 6 feet under and Macey would have been facing murder charges if I had left with no makeup on), for emergencies like this.

It was basically another bedroom. I had dragged the beanbags that used to occupy Macey's space in our room, as well as a desk (don't ask), chair and mirror into the room. The front wall had a big window, one-sided of course, that let light stream through and simple wallpaper that was a far cry from the delicate detail filling the rest of the school; it almost seemed to make me feel normal for once.

The intricate detail throughout the school was too much for a spy to absorb at some points and this was the reprieve. Or my reprieve at least. It was what I thought as my home in the school, with state of the art security, and missile proof glass.

When I came in here I wasn't a spy, noting all the details in the room and judging the time and date from the light angle. I was a simple girl who would crash on the beanbags and occasionally do some homework, no matter how outlandish it seemed.

It was the closest I'd ever felt to normal since Josh.

I raced in, pulling the tapestry shut behind me (really a disguised steel door), and raced over to the little dresser I had. I quickly pulled on some clothes and shoes, unbraiding the intricate braids Liz had placed on my head. My hair fell in half-assed waves that weren't quite waves, which was quite annoying, but I left it down because I wouldn't have enough time to do anything else.

I dabbed on concealer sparingly and put on some mascara and a thin line of eyeliner. I picked up my bag which contained some disguise materials and a chain with every different lock-picker you could ever find and began to head for the door.

I heard my mother's voice floating through the apparent thin walls. She was in the phone, I realized as I heard no response and my mother continuing. I pressed my ear to the wall as I had done so many times before, and listened.

"I'm sure that all the students will do fine, Steve. Yes, the girls do know about Blackthorne, but I think that Joe wanted to keep that a secret from the boys. Do the boy's?"

I heard my mother get up and start to pace, putting the phone on speaker.

"They know that it is a spy school, but not of the girls ranks and new job quotas. Rachael, I really don't think that they will be evenly matched; the boys are quite behind the standard of your curriculum and would usually be at their level a decade from now." said 'Steve'.

" Well then, it will be an education for them then when they meet the girls. I am not going to cancel this exchange."

"Very well, Rachael. I must say that I think they will learn a lot from the girls if they drop their damn egos. You know, teenage boys are so full of themselves these days... well, they will need some encouragement, that's for sure."

I leaned away from the wall, mulling over what I had just heard. We were going to Blackthorne. Of course, we knew what Blackthorne was and knew that we would meet their agents in the field, but never in the school.

And the praise to our school! They must be severely bad, I thought, before catching myself.

I had begun to underestimate them, a truly bad thing for a spy to do. And I knew that firsthand because Gallagher Girls practically invented underestimation, and we played it like a flute. It was our biggest and most successful weapon in our arsenal, apart from our memory.

I flashed out of the room, and raced towards the front doors, waiting anxiously for the other three to come. Not soon after the girls burst through the doors with murderous expressions. I smiled innocently.

"You left us, with her of all people! Do you knkow how painful it is to look normal!" screeched Bex, at the same time that Liz yelled,

"I had at least 50 hairs pulled out of my head!" and Macey stated,

"You're a dead woman walking, Morgan."

"Well, Macey, what if I had happened to find out some rather intriguing information?"

"It had better be bloody brilliant!" said Bex, cutting of Macey's snarky reply, and her accent leaking through.

"We're having an exchange with Blackthorne." I stated simply.

Cue jaw dropping.

I blinked and Bex's face swam into view, completely filling by eyesight, while my ears told me that Bex was talking. I was still quite dazed from being smashed into the concrete steps a few feet back from where I had been standing.

"Doesn't Grant go there?!"

"Mmmmmm" I mumbled, Bex boobs muffling my mouth. When we had been informed of Blackthorne, Liz and Kim had immediately began to hack their files, scouring all information referring to them. That had included a list of all the students in the school, and as you can tell, Bex might have developed a slight crush on one of the students casefiles.

She looked down and smiled seductively at me.

"Yoonemermedimbec."

Translation: You've never met him, Bex.

But Bex understood... somehow.

"I know... oh, sorry Cam."

She got off me and I took a lungful of air. I slowly got to my feet while Macey strolled over and inspected my handiwork and Liz examined my now throbbing head. She started murmuring things to herself while Macey said, "Not too bad for once, Hun. Why do you still run? I mean look at them.", she glanced over at the other two girls.

Liz, who had finished inspecting the damage done to my head, had joined Bex and were posing in ridiculous poses while pulling coy faces. But Macey had got their style right on, without it being overpowering or memorable. It was like seeing an orange car and being astounded by it, but forgetting it just as fast as watching a bird fly by.

Bex was clad in high waisted, black skinny-jeans with combat boots and a red tank top. She had a thin flowy sweater that seemed ripple over her shoulders and finished mid-thigh, making her seem less, _aggressive_ , than usual, but still maintaining a certain era of danger. She had a medium amount of makeup on- slightly winged eyeliner, mascara and slightly darker than natural lipstick.

And then Liz was dressed to be practical but dainty. She had faded blue jeggings and a mint green V-neck shirt that accentuated her curvy figure, topped off with a long and flowy sweater, similar to Bex's but thicker and made from wool. She had minimal makeup on, fitting the quota of a nerd with fashion sense.

They all looked amazing but forgettable. I honestly don't know why I still run, because to be honest they looked more forgettable than I did, despite my last season clothes with a baggy sweater. Must be habit, I guess.

The rest of the girls came pouring out the doors and I had to admit. They've gotten better at picking clothes. A lot better; I remember when Tina and Eva used to come out with at least 3 pounds of makeup on and wear miniskirts.

Joe walked up to us from around the corner, and gestured to the small plane in front of us. We headed to the plane and there was a small scramble for the first-class seats. Once we had settled down, Joe began to talk.

"Today we will be doing some taileé work. You will be tailed by some operatives- yes Ms. Sutton?

" How old will the boys be?"

He blinked at her, and then glared at me when the pieces fell into places. I grinned at him.

"You will be tailed by the senior students at Blackthorne. They will be your age, as they start their training a year later."

The plane erupted in whispers about the mission and their subjects.

"Ladies, please." began Joe, and the whispers ceased. " There will be an exchange between the two schools, and movement will be dependent on who is successful in this mission."

We sat there in silence, now in a state of complete competition. We would win this.

"Here are your tailers, they have also been given a case file with yourselves on them, so please do what you have to do to win. We are not going to lose this time."

"This time?" questioned Tina.

"All previous attempts to win have been thwarted, and I aim to break tradition."

He left and headed to the cockpit. Of course, he could fly a plane. We huddled around Macey and Eva, them being our best disguisers.

Needless to say, we did not look like our case files described us in any way at all, even though there were minimal changes. They had carefully placed makeup on our faces, which changed our facial structure without having to stick on fake body parts, and wore coloured contacts. We had been instructed by Tina to try and act thee complete opposite off your normal personality, because she wasn't sure if they had been included in our casefiles. Finally, when the preparations were over and the plane was beginning to land, Tina looked over at me and said,

"You think we missed anything, Cammie?"

The rest of the eyes turned to look at me and I squirmed. Bex noticed and started to stare at me with wide eyes and an adoring face, while edging closer to me. I gave her a tired smile, and said,

"No that covered everything. We are going to kick some serious Blackthorne bootey."

And we were going to do just that. We will send them crashing off their pedestal of cockiness, that Macey said that they would undoubtedly have, and kick their asses. We were going to win.

 **AN: Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it. It is a bit shorter than usual, but I am to make the next one longer. Please review!**

 **BYE ;)**


	4. Chapter 4: I See You

**Chapter 4: I See You**

 **Previously….**

"You think we missed anything, Cammie?"

The rest of the eyes turned to look at me and I squirmed. Bex noticed and started to stare at me with wide eyes and an adoring face, while edging closer to me. I gave her a tired smile, and said,

"No, that covered everything. We are going to kick some serious Blackthorne bootey."

And we were going to do just that. We will send them crashing of their pedestal of cockiness, that Macey said that they would undoubtedly have, and kick their asses. We were going to win.

 **Sorry for taking so long to update! Here you go!**

 **Enjoy!**

Joe landed the plane smoothly; there was hardly a bump. We collected our gear and were putting in comms units when Joe walked in.

"Alright ladies. All of you in the R&D track will have a computer to keep track of everyone else. You will be assigned a few girls each and I expect you to keep track of them, as well as their tailers. Do not tell your subjects who is tailing them if you spot them, as you will be disqualified and awarded a fail on this test."

Liz visibly shuddered, and I saw Macey grip her wrist reassuringly.

"You will be required to pass this test, to hack into the security cameras and monitor all of your subject's tailers, without leaving a trace, and find your tailer. Your tailer will be on the same track as you, so they will be tailing you remotely. You must keep tabs on them at the same time while monitoring your selected classmates. If you tell your subjects who is tailing them, you fail. If you are compromised, you fail. If you are caught, you fail.

"All of you on the Cov Ops track must find your tailer and compromise them to pass. They will be notified at the end of the mission. You must notify your Technological Operator when you identify your tailer, and you can get extra marks for intercepting your subject and an automatic A* for tailing them back without being compromised or suspected .

"Ladies, we haven't beaten these boys for a long time, and I don't want to lose on my first time doing this. I expect all of you to pass with flying colours. Good luck."

And he left. We were dumfounded. Not by the mission success criteria but by the urgency in his voice. We all thought that Bex was competitive, but in comparison, he was ahead by at least two miles. There was definitely something behind this; an ulterior motive made achievable by our success.

We had to win this.

Not just for Gallagher's reputation and our dignity, but for Joe. I didn't know what he was hiding; we usually told each other everything, but whatever it was, it must be important enough to keep from me. We had practically the same clearance (he had one level more than me), which meant he wasn't bound by law to tell me most of everything.

I looked at my sisters and from their expressions, it seemed like they had a new aura of determination.

We _were_ going to win.

 **Time Skip**

I was sitting with Liz in a coffee shop, while she tapped away at her keyboard.

We had exited the plane in groups of 2 or 3 one after the other, leaving at random intervals, and began the 4-minute walk to the mall, as Joe had later instructed. He had forgotten that essential piece of information amidst the detailed instructions of our mission and we had to go back and ask him. He had to have been very distracted to have forgotten something that simple.

Bex, Macey, Liz and I had all originally sat down at the coffee shop and bought coffees, while we mindlessly chatted about this and that. Our cover was a group of girls meeting up for a shopping spree and to study for college, and since we weren't as young and naive anymore, we were allowed to assume a more reservative cover and not act like ridiculous teenagers with weird greeting rituals.

Macey and Bex had decided to go shopping about ten minutes earlier, and I was having a one-sided conversation with Liz.

To disguise her talking to Bex and Macey about what hairstyles go with what through comms, she had brought up a video recording of someone talking and placed headphones in her ears. She had a screen cover on the laptop face so that it looked like she was talking to someone, so that if anyone was looking at her screen it would seem like she was having a conversation with them while tying a school paper, when in fact she was scouring the security cameras to try and find her tailer.

She had told me absent-mindedly that she had set up a software that would notify her if there was anyone scouring the cameras near us. So far, the only hits she'd had were Courtney and Kim, who were also on the R&D track. She had started to talk to herself a while ago, and I had begun to tune out her incomprehensible mumbles (even though I've been told I speak fluent mumble).

I had stayed with Liz partially because I didn't have to follow anyone and it would be weird if I went out on my own. Being the tailee was much easier than tailing because I had no limitations.

It was much easier to sit and sip coffee to seem normal and inconspicuous, than it would be rushing around using every counter-surveillance technique in the book. It would be more noticeable to run around like a paranoid Mr. Smith, than to sit at a coffee shop without a care in the world. Even Liz had to look up occasionally and scan the shop to see if I was still there, before realizing that I was still next to her.

I had sunk into the core of my inner pavement artist to stay hidden and she was my 'canary in the mines', so to speak, informing me that it was working. Liz looked up.

"Cammie…..", she whined. "You're supposed to tell me when you leave….. I don't want to have to search for you two…."

"I'm still here Liz.", I said while reclining in my chair with a coffee cup in hand and a slightly bemused expression on my face.

"Geez, Chameleon, you can tone it down a bit you know. That's the 5th time this minute.", said Bex through comms

"I'm not doing anything…... Princess. It's not as if I have an off switch!" I said indignantly, not moving my lips and using another one of her hated aliases.

I was gazing out the shop window, nonchalantly looking for my tailer. No-one had caught my attention so far, but there had been a boy that had fit my description walk by earlier. The second I saw him come back, I would start moving.

"Oh God."

I turned to Liz, all while keeping the shop window in my peripheral vision. She had a notification announcing a fellow hacker scouring the cameras. She started typing madly and from what I could gather from the flashing screen, she was trying to isolate all cameras on us so no-one could access them, and move them on their axis so we couldn't be seen. I relaxed into my seat when Liz's hands stopped flying over the keyboard, while holding Liz's hand and rubbing her thumb under mine. I resumed my people-watching.

We had discovered a few years ago during a particularly aggressive anxiety attack that Liz calmed down a lot faster when having human contact. She liked the reassurance of someone tangible being next to her rather than a voice in her ears. That's the second reason I had stayed with her. I was going to remain in my seat till she found her tailer, and then I would start to make my way around the mall.

She resumed her typing so I let go of her hand and continued my staring contest with a dog that had taken a particular interest in me. Apparently, my chameleon skills did not spread to animals.

"Gotcha!", exclaimed Liz. She had found her tailer; a lanky boy, sitting in a library on the other side of the mall typing furiously into a computer.

"Winter, tall boy, loose green shirt, blue jeans in the library on the east side of the mall."

"Chameleon, you aren't supposed to be compromising targets that aren't your own.", came Joe's voice through the comms.

"Uhh, Bookworm is, umm, otherwise occupied at this moment in time…?"

I was staring at Liz in disbelief as she looked at him in the computer with googly eyes. I didn't know she could crush on someone, to be honest.

The boy who had walked by earlier came back into view, and I was thankful of the sun on my face. I had a pair of aviator glasses on, masking my line of vision, allowing me to observe him while seeming like I was staring somewhere to the right of him.

He seemed to be trying to seem cool and relaxed, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. In his mad scanning of the mall, he turned his head to the side, and I saw that his ears seemed to be filled in. A comms unit. _Bingo_.

I bid goodbye to an unresponsive Liz, and headed to the restroom. I opened the door to a small, empty bathroom and replaced the brown contacts in my eyes with green ones and added some freckles to my skin with a pale eyebrow pencil. I then gathered my hair and pulled the top half into a loose pony, halfway down my head. Once I was finished with my adjustments, I compromised my target.

"Winter, tall, dark hair, broad-shouldered, wearing a tight blue shirt, dark blue jeans, outside Maggie's Coffee Shop."

"Well done Chameleon.", came a woman's voice through comms.

"Heart-Breaker?!" I questioned, excitement rising inside me.

"Hey, squirt."

"What are you doing here?! I thought you were in Istanbul?"

"Ahh, I finished that 3 months ago. I'm teaching at Blackthorne now. Well done on compromising your target, he was the best in the class…. Well not saying that they're very good most of the time…. How did you get it?" 

"His eyes didn't match his facial expression, and I could see his comms."

"Jeez, you would have thought they would know better. Anyway, congratulations. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Ah, well, I have my moments.", I said sarcastically. "Really sorry but I want a good mark so I'm going to start moving."

"Alright squirt. Knock em dead."

I walked out of the restroom and headed for the door. I had taken off my glasses and left the coffee shop, walking slowly while putting in headphones. Liz had made extra small comms to be even less noticeable, and also allowed headphone access.

"Bookworm? Where's my tailer?", I said.

"In front of Starbucks. Take the next right and it's on the left at the end of the row of shops.", she replied dreamily

I walked casually to my destination while taking out some folders with fake notes and clutching them to my chest. I window shopped as I walked, searching for my target in the reflective glass. I spotted him walking out of Starbucks. _Here we go_ , I thought to myself. He started in my direction and I made my way into his path. He bumped into me, _causing_ me to drop all my _notes._

"I am so sorry." He said, bending down to help me pick up my _notes._

"It's fine, don't worry. You don't have to." I said gratefully.

"No I insist.," he replied.

"Chivalry isn't dead then…", mused Macey in my ear. She was in Starbucks, gazing at the menu as she cued. I suppressed a smirk.

"He's a hottie, Chameleon.", she observed, and I blushed.

He handed me most my notes, and smirked knowingly at my blush. I looked down as he asked,

"So what is a pretty girl like you studying?"

"Phycology." I answered, blushing deeper. It was the most recent topic that Liz was studying and the first that came to mind.

We chatted for a few minutes before I asked, "So, where you looking for someone? You seemed distracted when you bumped into me."

"Yeah, my little sister. She was supposed to meet me in Maggie's coffee shop but she didn't show. I figured she came for Starbucks, but I guess not…", he trailed off.

"Hey, it's been really nice talking to you, but I'm supposed to meet my friends at Macy's. I'll see you around?

"Yeah…" he replied, scanning the crowd, before turning back, but I was gone.

I raced to the nearest restroom, and changed my disguise by putting on a brown wig and putting onmy green contacts again. I changed my clothes and exited the restroom.

"Bookworm?", I asked again, silently asking her where he had gone.

"Forever 21, south side.", Liz replied, sounding a bit more composed. She had probably already hacked into Blackthorne and started scanning for information on her tailer in their database.

I caught sight of him performing a tail scanning technique, and immediately turned on the water-works. I held my phone to my ear and quietly whispered,

"Peacock? I need you to pretend to argue with me as if you're a deadbeat boyfriend."

She promptly started hurling insults and typical poor arguments at me while I argued with her. My voice gradually raised until I was screeching into the phone.

"We are done, Carter!" I screamed into my phone, in a Southern accent. I practically fell onto the bench behind me and let the tears flow down my face. I saw my tailer glance at me though the corner of my eyes and I started to shake my shoulders, as if rising to hysterics.

If I was right, his narcissistic self would stroll over and pretend to be a gentleman, picking up the pieces someone else had left. He would probably go back to his friends boasting that he had picked up a random girl in a mission and she had fallen into his arms. And that was exactly what I was going to do.

Just as I predicted, he casually walked over and sat down next to me. I remembered one of my first Cov Ops lessons with Joe. _A good spy doesn't approach their target. They get their target to approach them._

"You okay?", he asked tentatively after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"No, I'm not okay. Do I look okay to you?!", I looked up at him and prayed that my makeup had stayed true to its word, and was not waterproof. Judging by his facial expression my mascara was pouring down my tear stained cheeks and my eyes were red from crying.

He quickly looked away and I waited for about half a minute before doing anything. I then slumped onto his shoulder and resumed my shaking, while babbling about my now no good ex-boyfriend.

"He was soooo good to me, you know?! He would get me flowers and remembered our anniversary and everything! And then that girl, Macey, came along and ruined everything!" I practically yelled at his slightly scared but patronizing face.

"You know, he's gone now. You can do way better than him, in my opinion.", he said, so originally. Note the sarcasm.

I paused, as if considering his statement

"You know what? You're right. He's gone and I never have to see him or his sorry excuse of a skank ever again!", he winced at my harsh words and I heard Macey mutter in my ear,

"Jesus, Chameleon. I thought I meant something to you".

I suppressed a smirk.

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess. I don't know what I was doing! I practically jumped on you!", I said, wiping my makeup and tears from my face.

"Ah, no its fine. I came over to you first anyway. Couldn't leave you over here crying, now could we?", he paused.

I laughed.

"My name's Zach, you?", he questioned.

"Abby.", I said, hearing Aunt Abby chuckling in my ears.

"Well, Abby, would you like to go to Starbucks with me?". Caffeine addict.

"I'm sorry no thanks. I was going to the library to finish an assignment I have to hand in tomorrow. Thank you, really, though.", I declined.

"Ah, well. You can't blame me for trying. Good luck with your assignment!", he called as I walked away.

I headed straight for the nearest shop with fitting rooms.

I rushed out and did it all over again.

Over the next hour, I was Sue, Olivia, Brooklyn, Grace, Tanya, Char and Cathy, leaving Joe and Aunt Abby in fits of laughter at my various acts and the inside jokes I fed into my many conversations with 'Zach'. He didn't even change his name when I met him repetitively, so I assumed my tailers name was Zach.

He seemingly gave up and started to head to wherever he had been instructed to go when the mission duration had finished. He weaved through the crowds, using every counter-surveillance technique I've ever seen; the first good decision I'd seen him make all day.

He reached his destination just outside the mall in a side alley, where Aunt Abby was waiting. She stood leaning against the wall and probably tuning in every villain I'd ever seen and a few more, as Zach hesitantly walked up to her. She must have a certain hold over them as he was approaching her with his head down and eyes averted. Oh, I loved it when Aunt Abby sacred the crap out of people. It's quite entertaining.

"Mr. Goode,", she drawled.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Will you relay the mission and its result to me?"

"My objective was to find, compromise and tail a female agent without being compromised. I failed this mission and its objective.", he said, a slight hint of tightly controlled disbelief leaking into his voice.

"No, Mr. Goode.", replied Abby.

"Ma'am?"

"No.", she said simply.

"You were, in fact, found by your target, compromised and tailed by them."

I saw a group of boys littering the alleyway at the back, presumably his classmates. They were muttering quietly about what they had just heard, which had been the only thing that had alerted me to their presence. , apparently must have been the best at this from what I had gathered, and I had just beaten him at his own game.

"With all due respect, Ma'am,", he began, guardingly.

"I don't believe you.".

Gasps were heard from the boys behind them.

"You don't?", said Abby, as if talking about a simple matter of food preferences.

"Well, would you like to meet them?", I stepped in, remaining in the shadows.

His head whipped round, along with the other boys, to face the place my voice had come from.

I stepped out of the shadows.

"Hi,", I continued.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. You must be Zachary Goode."

He stared at me blankly.

"You may know me as Sue, Olivia, Brooklyn, Grace, Tanya, Char and Cathy."

His face morphed into confusion and annoyance at my crypticness.

"I'm so sorry, I'm a mess. I don't know what I was doing! I practically jumped on you!", I said to him, adopting the Southern accent I had used in my act. His eyes widened.

"Hi, I am doing survey for quality of service for mall. Do you have any time to give me?", I said in the French accent and poor english I had used for Grace.

"But…..but.. but you're a… a girl, for crying out loud!", he responded naively, when he regained control of his tongue.

"Oh dear, no Zach.", I said patronizingly, with an innocent look pasted to my face. I leaned forward, as if about to tell him a secret.

"I'm a _Gallagher Girl._ "

I fell into the shadows and Zach spun to face Abby.

"Who was that?", he questioned, all respect thrown out the window. Specifically, the window of safeness and self-assurance I had broken along with the walls of the safe little world he had made for himself, out of his self-absorbedness of being the best. Well… that window was definitely shattered.

"That was one of the best spies I've ever met.", I heard as I raced away through the shadows.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it is extra-long as promised. Please review!**

 **BYE ;)  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Who Picked Up The Pieces

**Chapter 5: Who Picked Up The Pieces**

 **Previously…**

"I'm a _Gallagher Girl._ "

I fell into the shadows and Zach spun to face Abby.

"Who was that?", he questioned, all respect thrown out the window. Specifically, the window of safeness and self-assurance I had broken along with the walls of the safe little world he had made for himself, out of his self-absorbedness of being the best. Well… that window was definitely shattered.

"That was one of the best spies I've ever met.", I heard as I raced away through the shadows.

 **Enjoy!**

After our mission with the boys, we were asked to pack for a year away. Macey promptly fled the plane and started packing for all of us. I attempted to sneak in my favourite clothes but I'm not sure how many made it through Macey's meticulous inspection.

In total, we all left with about 5 suitcases each, which all slotted snugly into another for easy manageability and transport.

I co-piloted with Joe, as he conceded to teaching me the basics of piloting, for take-off and landing, while the other girls slept on the deck. We had asked the chef to make Chinese and we were lounging in the first-class chairs with the controls set to auto pilot.

Joe had practically raised me; filling the gaping hole my father left when he went MIA. My Dad was my role model, my rock and confidante. I told him everything and he would be the one to tuck me in at night and check for the monsters under the bed. I had a much better relationship with him than my mother, but don't get me wrong, no, I love my mother so much and she is the perfect mum.

She had to take care of the school and couldn't always sneak out to come home. But, I loved her, because I knew all the time and effort it took to sneak out of that school, and honestly, to my 7-year-old brain, it was super cool. However, my Dad was the one who was there for me at the end of the day, and we had a relationship deeper than the eye could tell. As you can imagine, I was left broken and empty when he vanished.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxTime LapsexxxxxxxxxxxX

The report had come in one day; Mum was in the shower and Aunt Abby was on a mission. She had left for Rome three days ago, when she found a dead drop and rushed to the Director.

Mum always let me read through the mail, she said that there were no secrets in the family and she wanted me to be able to do everything she could, should anything happen to her or Dad, and do it better than she could ever dream of. Naturally, this consisted of bills, mortgages and everything else an adult would, but my mind was mature, and, with a spy's discipline, accepted that this was life and I had to suck it up.

The large brown envelope was from the Director; I recognised the address. It was a cover of course, addressed from CIA 'Headquarters' when the base was really three miles east west of the address and half a kilometre in the ground. I carefully opened the envelope and froze when I saw the black folder.

Black Folder

Black Folder

 _Black Folder_

Black folders were for MIA agents presumed dead.

My thought process went something like this:

Nonononononono...DadorAbby?...Nononononono...wrong address maybe... please... nonononononono...please…... _PLEEAASSSEE…_

Mum had come out the shower and found me motionless on the floor staring at a piece of card. With my Father's name on it.

I broke out of my trance and dropped the envelope as if it were 200 degrees hot.

I locked myself in my room, listening to my mother screeching in agony where I left her. The front door opened and I recognised Joe's footsteps rushing to her. I heard him freeze, presumably when he saw the envelope. He and my Father were best friends since they were 12. Let me rephrase. They _had_ been best friends since they were 12.

I was inconsolable. I became inhuman; my morals vanished and my humanity had deserted me. I attaked everyone who came to encourage me back to mental stability, leaving themselves to stumble out the door with various injuries as they wouldn't raise a finger against me in my current state.

After three days, Joe walked in. Everyone else had come in, Bex, Macey, Liz, Aunt Abby, my Mother, and even the Director. But never Joe.

He didn't attempt to restrain me or talk to me. We sat on the floor, staring at each other, until one broke down.

I don't know how long we sat there, Joe's shoulders shaking as he mourned his best friend, his brother, while I screeched his name, screaming, begging even, _please_ …. as Joe rocked me in his lap. I had never known Joe to show weakness, but he let his guard down around me and so did I.

He slowly brought back my humanity and sanity, coaching me to learn how to deal with the trauma.

You don't ever get over the experience, you don't have an epiphany and overcome your loss like in movies.

It simply becomes a distant memory with vivid details. The feelings associated with the memory gradually ebb, eventually leaving the memory with a moving picture and watching yourself go through the appropriate responses you would have; the feelings with it becoming a separate entity. I trained myself to remember the emotions and their savage nature separately because they wouldn't leave my tortured mind. Separate from the memory.

Because if I did, I would break again.

I left Gallagher after two years there, and began learning from my family. Bex, Macey and Liz were given permission to join me when they wished, and could come and go as they pleased. They spent most of their time with me and my family, training with me.

As you can imagine, being taught by your family has some certain upsides and downsides. They know your breaking point and when you're lying, but only because they are the ones who taught you to lie. We all quickly surpassed the curriculum, as we had no break from our training and rose through the ranks.

I have level 72 clearance, ten below the Director and am the most successful field agent. My age gave me the advantage of underestimation, and my advanced skills completed very mission I had ever been sent on starting from the age of fourteen, when I was requested for my first mission alone.

However, Langley realised that we were all better as a team, and created the BPDC Team. We quickly became famous among spies, which went against everything I've ever been taught, but I can't have everything. We have a perfect track record and have been sent on 15, deep cover missions that lasted roughly 2 weeks each despite the 1 year predictions we were given.

I returned to Gallagher for senior year, when we took down the circle, and made amends with my sisters. Our situation as famous spies were spilled and revealed to my sisters and the school, with the label Classified: Subject chosen knowledge only. Basically, all our statuses were classified unless we trusted the individual to maintain discretion.

XxxxxxxxxxxTime Lapse OverxxxxxxxxxxX

We were howling with laughter, while the girls, true Gallagher Girls, slept through the sound. We landed silently, and woke Liz to prepare the entrance...

Macey, who had been instructed by Aunt Cameron to _kick some sexist butt,_ as she had so delicately put it, had taken her words to heart. She had organised, with my help after requesting my frequency to add dramatic flair, a knock-dead, killer entrance.

The performance was one plucked out of a musical and a James Bond film. It included so many intricately placed actions, as she aimed to overwhelm any spy's senses, hopefully leaving the incompetent boys dumbfounded.

Macey was rushing around, perfecting our sleep jostled makeup and repeating the entrance she had painstakingly designed, while Liz, having finished preparations and almost on the verge of an anxiety attack, did everyone's hair again.

She kept muttering incomprehensible things under her breath about percentages and success rates while her fingers flew deftly over Kim's hair, braiding them in record times.

Everyone had two Dutch plaits in a half updo with long straightened hair to our lower backs and what seemed like temporary pain-inflicted expressions from Liz pulling their air tight. Me, having been appointed as leader, much too my dismay, had the same with loose curls that reached my lower back.

We were dressed in slashed black skinny jeans, accentuating our toned legs, with a plain, loose, tank bodysuits in of varying colours, and a black biker jacket on top. I was a deep maroon colour. We all had solid black combat boots with a metal stud on the bottom, letting out a sound of high heels when we walked. It was the sound without the pain.

Joe knocked on the door and asked if we were ready. Upon our affirmation, a grim smile lit his face. Our faces were question enough as he said, "They'll never see this coming!".

We knew he didn't agree with sexism, and this was further enforced through the fact that he worked 24/7 in a female gender, dominated school.

We exited the private jet, courtesy of Macey, and made our way to the mansion in front of us. Joe led us to the front doors while we mindlessly chatted, and pressed his ear to the doors. Our attentive ears picked up the sound of feet, and we hushed. There were lots of feet.

My vision wondered and I saw a slightly discoloured and pressed in brick to the left. I walked over with hunter's feet, and pushed the brick in. It sounds cliché but the wall folded away like Diagon Alley.

Apparently, I had a knack for this.

Joe looked at me amazed, but quickly regained his posture and briskly stalked to the entrance. I heard him mutter under his breath " ... bloody magician…."

I kept my amusement to myself.

"How far from the doors is the main hall?" I asked him.

"50.658 feet" he responded, confused. I rapped my knuckles against the inside wall and looked at Liz. She had come up with an equation for creating a map in her head that no-one else seemed to get. It was like she had a sonar. Liz listened for 2.45 seconds and said,

"If my calculations are correct, this leads to a hallway to the left but takes a detour left again of about 100 feet, give or take a half foot."

"That's my office. I have blueprints of the hall there; do you need them?"

"Oh yes." I smirked back. We had planned quite the dramatic entrance.

He stalked off into the passageway, grumbling about wanting to keep his job as teacher, as I followed suit and dragged Bex behind me, Macey wedging herself behind her so she wouldn't bolt. She gradually stopped shaking in fear of spiders as she observed none and relaxed.

We ended up behind a portrait next to Joe's office and quickly crawled out, filing into his office.

Blueprints were handed out and Macey instructed again what the course of action was. We had all memorised the sequence of events, but it never hurt to be prepared.

" You have 3 and half minutes till we introduce you, ladies. I trust you have this under control" and Joe excused himself.

We were going to put on a show.

I had heard the predicating call, while in one of my passageway's. It's a chameleon thing, as you may have realised, finding passageways. I swear they find me rather than me finding them.

I may or may not have heard Headmaster Steve talking about the average grade slipping in some areas and my mother's offer for some….'encouragement', as she had stated mildly. I mentally grinned. If _encouragement_ was what they needed, then _encouragement_ is what they'll get.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!**

 **BYE ;)**


	6. Chapter 6: Knock Knock

**Chapter 6: Knock Knock**

* * *

 **Previously….**

We ended up behind a portrait next to Joe's office and quickly crawled out, filing into his office.

Blueprints were handed out and I instructed again what the course of action was. We had all memorised the sequence of events, but it never hurt to be prepared.

" You have 3 and half minutes till we introduce you, ladies. I trust you have this under control" and Joe excused himself.

We were going to put on a show.

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Before Joe had departed to the Main Hall, I warned him not to attack our group if we did something unprecedented, and to warn other members of staff.

The boys were rusty as seen by the Cove. Ops exercise, so we weren't worried; all you had to do was counter the weight shift by moving your centre of gravity, but, we did not want any interruptions. Soon all preparations were made, smokey eyes in accordance of shirt colour were finished, eyeliner winged, comms passed round, masks put on and knives sheathed.

We looked badass.

"Alright girls, we only have one chance because I am _not_ passing round tea _en masse._ Teams Beta and Theta, run around the perimeter, get to your posts and wait till Liz's signal through comms. Team Alpha, get into position in the alcoves in the Hall. Macey make your way to the Doors and Bex…. Please remember to be stealthy. No stopping for the boys or teasing them. You never know, the seniors might have some attentive eyes this time."

"I highly doubt it." Bex scoffed. "they wouldn't see Lizzie if she traipsed through and fell over their feet."

I glared at her.

"But I want one." She whined, playing the part of a spoilt heiress perfectly.

I glared harder, bordering the Chinter glare. She immediately became serious. The Chinter glare (a combination of Chameleon and Winter) was a glare that Joe and I had come up with to rival the Morgan glare on a rainy day. The effects were quite beneficial.

I made my way to the roof, scaling the elaborate window ledges. Their covers were similar to Gallagher; snotty, rich heiresses, or in their case, snotty, rich heirs. That cover wasn't entirely a lie, however.

Doing what we do is extremely dangerous but very necessary for public safety worldwide. In other words, most families, unless you had a civilian family, were filthy rich. You couldn't spend this extravagantly, though, as this would be a red flag to Police with low clearance that you were terrorists or foreign spies. But, the snotty bit was wrong. We are taught with etiquette, and to maintain our modesty and cover, until, of course, another route was necessary.

Our year was different to the others at Gallagher. When news of my Father spread through the school, my mother began to take action. Male assassins were getting sloppy, not that Matthew Morgan was sloppy, he was the best male spy in the business, but Mum took it upon herself for Gallagher to replenish the rapidly falling ranks. Just as Blackthorne was a school for assassins, Gallagher started to train our year to be both excelling spies and assassins, with our education varying from Countries of the World (COW) and Culture and Assimilation, to Weaponry & Enforcement and Power and Enforcement (P&E). This was our years, umm, _situation_.

I reached the centre of the roof and peered through the glass skylight. I scanned the crowd, looking for a certain boy at the Mall. Zach, he had called himself. Of course, Joe had pulled me aside and told me Catherine's boy attended the Cove. Ops exercise, but as Catherine was gone, along with her intentions for the world, I held no grudges against him. He had not offended me in any way ( except for taking advantage of unstable young women). I didn't quite grasp the concept that intentions and ambitions of evil content could be passed on through the generations, and why people judged others based on their families.

I located him, he was seated on the table I would be dropping onto. Perfect.

Through the comms I heard the speed of Liz's typing increase as Joe stepped onto the podium. Immediate silence ensued. He must have quite a hold on their obedience. _We have to do something about that_ I thought to myself with a visible grimace. We confirmed our positions and I began to silently cut out a piece of the bulletproof glass, courtesy of Liz's extraordinary machinery. As I finished, Joe began to talk. _Here we go_ , I thought.

"Gentlemen, good evening." A unified deep rumble responded.

"I have returned this year to continue teaching although my position here will be indefinite. Along with myself I have brought a supr-" he was cut off by the lights flickering out with an audible, short, stutter. Hushed whispers followed the loss of light, but ceased prominently, as echoing footsteps were heard. I couldn't help grinning at Macey's style of walking; strutting, with power emanating from the sound her metal-implanted boots, causing every boy to turn their heads simultaneously to the door. The doors burst open with a bang, emphasising the initial beat.

The music began. It was a shortened version of Dance Without You, specifically taken from the movie Step Up Revolution.

She stood in the centre of the double door archway, silhouetted boldly against ice-blue light, while the intro played through the micro speakers we had placed along the walls prior to our arrival. Hands on her hips her stark features further enhanced her super-model worthy beauty and a mask caused a few jaws to be dropped. Macey, or should I say Peacock, resumed her strutting to the beat after most jaws were closed, holding all attention in only a way I've only seen her achieve, while Bex and Team Alpha crept behind Joe and the Staff.

 _ **So, serious, all the time….**_

 _ **I feel restrained…**_

 _ **I feel confined….**_

As the first verse began, Duchess and co. drew their knives against the faculty member's throats, Bex quickly drawing the knife on Joe, forcing him onto a chair, him flinching away from the knife, gritting his teeth and looking caught. I appreciated his spontaneous involvement in our entrance. It furthered our subconscious message to the cocky boys that we meant business and could even scare the famous Winter. Team Alpha continued to gaze at their victims through their elaborate masks, while Bex slowly turned to face the Hall, smiling coyly at her audience. Everyone wore the same mask, white, except me: I wore one with a mixture of black that slowly turned into maroon, matching my outfit. They curled from the lower-right cheekbone, and swirled intricately to just above the eye, masking our faces while maintaining a mysterious, sultry and dangerous aura. Students gasped, unable to decide if they should act or stay seated.

These staff ere were undoubtedly better than them, especially Joe all having earned their place to teach their replacements both in the field and behind the scenes.

Everyone who wasn't a student and walked through the front doors automatically earned the title, Sir or Madame, because their attendance or retirement career at a school like this was the result of massive achievement and experience. So, yes. This was a shock to them. A shock of unimaginable proportions, no doubt about it.

 _ **I cannot take your whispering…... your whispering**_

The beat built, and expectations grew, the boys so enthralled by the newcomers, sat useless in their seats. _Amateurs…_ I thought.

 _ **I wanna to dance without you….**_

 _ **For once just let me lose myself….**_

 _ **I wanna dance without you….**_

 _ **For once just let me lose myself….**_

On each bass beat in the chorus, another girl would be illuminated on the wall, causing heads to swing sharply as another figure were revealed, hands on hips, along the walls. Macey had, at the last minute, decided on a small-scale, military inspired, contemporary dance, that would be performed throughout while remaining in our positions.

 _ **For once, let me lose myself, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self, self.**_

The tension built within the music and Teams Beta and Theta somersaulted through the windows, lining the second-row aisles and joining in on the military style dance during the repetition in the song. We were slowly but surely, filling the attention capacity, enough for an experienced spy's mind to collapse. To an average person, this would have passed in a blur. But for a spy's mind, however rusty or inexperienced, everything was seen everywhere, at the same time, in vivid detail. This would be remembered for decades to come.

 _ **I, I, I WANNA DANCE WITHOUT YOU…**_

The song reached its climax, and my turn came. I jumped through the fresh hole in the skylight, corkscrewing as I fell, landing squarely on the centre table on the peak, bass beat. I rose slowly, as if rising from a dramatic curtsey, hands halfway from my side, staring into the emerald eyes of Catherine's son. I fought to maintain my coy expression, as shock and wonder filled his face, much like the two beside him, and the rest of the hall, abandoning all attempt to keep a cool facade. I wasn't surprised, I had just fallen 30 feet, landed on a smooth table and come up standing. I expected no more, and no less.

 _ **For once just let me lose myself….**_

 _ **I wanna dance without you….**_

 _ **For once just let me lose myself….**_

The rest of the group continued the routine, performing one _very_ illegal move, repetitively, that I had made in my youth: The B.T.Y Manoeuvre. It stood for _Better Than You._ I couldn't help my smile growing wider as the move was recognised and the message received, shock beginning to etch itself upon some of the faculty members faces.

As the song began to end, we all finished out actions in unison, and paused, slowly surveying our work, and began to sprint to the podium, me running across the table, leaving all crockery untouched as I glided over my carefully picked path. I saw genuine shock on Joe's face and I knew we had succeeded. I mean if I saw 20 plus Gallagher Girls sprinting at me with determined faces, I would panic, despite my extensive experience and knowledge. We ran right past Joe, me soaring over his head, and landing in the centre of the faculty table, right in front of Headmaster Steve. I gave him a sad smile, to which he returned with a confused expression, just before we pushed him of the chair to the right, and Bex drew her knife on his throat. I collapsed in his chair, my feet lounging on the table while my sisters stood in front of the table.

Silence followed our dramatic entrance and Liz's masked face, along with her laptop in Joe's office filled the space above the double doors.

"Gentlemen…." she slowly enunciated the with a sinister smile. All the heads in the room swivelled to watch the projection, as she continued her speech. She had dropped her shy personality for one of confidence.

"May I present, to Blackthorne Institute for Assassins," a sharp intake of breath was heard through the pin-drop silence as she paused for her statement to be processed. The knowledge of Blackthorne's secret was only known of by people with clearance of 38. Our clearance level had to rise as our year's, how do I put it…., _special_ case, was put into effect, surpassing even the senior's levels, when we began our altered training. The boys seated had a clearance level of around 24 to 32, so you can imagine the impact our knowledge had.

"The sisters of," she paused again, cocking her head and smiling coyly,

" Gallagher Academy.".

Boy this was going to be fun.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please Review!**


	7. Chapter 7: We Aim To Impress

**Chapter 7: We Aim to Impress**

* * *

 **Previously….**

"Gentlemen…." she slowly enunciated the with a sinister smile. All the heads in the room swiveled to watch the projection, as she continued her speech.

"May I present, to Blackthorne Institute for Assassins," a sharp intake of breath was heard through the pin-drop silence as she paused for her statement to be processed. The knowledge of Blackthorne's secret was only known of by people with clearance of 38. Our clearance level had to rise as our year's, how do I put it…., special case, was put into effect, surpassing even the senior's levels, when we began our altered training. The boys seated had a clearance level of around 24 to 32, so you can imagine the impact our knowledge had.

"The sisters of," she paused again, cocking her head and smiling coyly,

" Gallagher Academy.".

Boy this was going to be fun.

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Liz's face flickered away, and all the students faces swiveled to us. I squirmed, covering it up with quickly raising from my place, lounging in the chair.

I was the Chameleon. Attention was Bex and Macey's thing, not mine. The performance, however, was different. The boys needed to be taught a lesson, and I was all up for educating those who didn't know.

Joe began to clap, slowly. It was quite strange, but sounded fitting for the empty aftermath. Once the message that we weren't going to mass murder them was received, the boys slowly broke free from the spell and started to applaud and cheer, causing small grins of satisfaction spread through our group.

As Liz's holograms faded away, and Bex removed her knife from the Headmaster's throat, jaws dropped again. Dr. Steve visibly swallowed while rearranging his glasses.

There were 15 girls in our class, of which 9 came, which meant that we needed more for our performance to run smoothly, so Liz brought some of her toys with her. I heard Tina mutter to Mick,

"I'm sure if those jaws drop any further, they're gonna break."

We removed our masks and the crowd's applauding audibly slackened as our age was revealed. Joe headed over to the podium again, and resumed his speech, hinting that nothing had happened except for a slightly amused expression.

"Along with myself, I have brought the senior class of the Gallagher Academy for _Exceptional_ Young Women. I suggest that you do not get on their bad side. These ladies will be attending the senior class' classes, and a guide will be assigned to each of you. You will be assigned the same people you were assigned to tail on the Cove. Ops. Mission 2 days ago, and please pay attention. You may learn a thing or two." He grimaced. "Ladies, why don't you come and introduce yourselves. "

We crowded behind the microphone and Eva started to go forward, just as Joe' whispered to us not to reveal our Codenames. We nodded and continued, not questioning his request.

"Eva Alverez. I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 42." Intakes of gasps were heard as she stated her clearance. We had all been given missions as we had graduated and our expertise had been recognized, furthering our rise through the levels. In one term, we had risen, on average, by Liz's calculations, about 7 levels, not including the level rise we would receive during missions we would undertake both in Cov Ops and not.

We continued our introductions,

"Tina Walters. I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 41."

"Kim Lee. I'm on the Research and Development track and my clearance is 46."

Your clearance level tended to rise faster if you were on the Research and Development track as you stayed behind the scenes. You were never in imminent danger, and you had more time to perfect your acting and languages, if you were ever doing the odd bit of field work.

"Courtney Bauer. I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 43."

"Anna 'Annie' Fetterman. I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 48."

"Mick Morrison. I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 49."

Nods of approval went around the hall, their expectations of our group rising as they took in the rising average of our clearances. But that wasn't all. As known by fighting Mick (she frequently sparred with Bex) her skill was improving rapidly, but her appearance contributed to the nods.

Our list of girls went from lower clearance and appearance to higher clearance and appearance. Not to say some of us were ugly, not at all. All of us had reached the stage where puberty had spat us back out of its horrifying depths, leaving us clear-minded and faced. We were definitely an above average group in terms of beauty, but compared to Bex, Macey and Mick, some stood in the shadows. But everyone accepted these ranks, as those with a less memorable face tended to blend in better with a crowd, becoming more successful pavement artists.

The doors burst open and Liz stood, small compared to the double doors. But you should never underestimate Liz. She could, as Q once said, do more damage in her pajamas in one minute than Bex could with her fists in a year. She flashed down the aisle, quicker than the average eye could follow, and handed her laptop to Kim. She stepped up to the microphone, and being the smallest of us, angled her head up to reach.

"Elizabeth 'Liz' Sutton. I'm on the Research and Development track and my clearance is 64.89."

All boys in the R&D track gasped; a clearance of that level in that track was virtually impossible, let alone in a _girl,_ as they probably thought _. Sexist pigs,_ I heard Macey mutter.

We expected to break some ground expectations and stereotypes here. Macey strutted up to the microphone and I swear some boys drooled as a hushed silence filled the room.

"Macey McHenry. Yes, I am the senator's daughter, I'm on the Cove Ops track and my clearance is 63."

Backs straightened as Macey purred into the microphone. The sudden increase in clearance level intoned that the last of us were especially dangerous, and not to be messed with.

"Bex Baxter. I'm on th- "she started but stopped, given that Joe was glaring at her. "Okay, fine. Rebecca 'Bex' Baxter, but I swear if you call me that I will personally escort you to the Head of ISIS, with or without your limbs." Her intense gaze on the boys in the room fulfilled her expectations, and none questioned her authority. "I'm on the Cove Ops track," she continued," and my clearance is 67."

Her being a legacy and her advanced fighting skills were some of the main reasons her clearance level had increased at a phenomenal rate. Her parents, Abe and Grace Baxter were some of the top MI6 agents currently in action, and their expertise had clearly only increased within Bex.

I stepped up to the mic and removed my mask. A few jaws dropped, not because of my beauty, I am, as I said before a plain-Jane, despite the makeup adorning my face, but my resemblance of my Father. The portrait outside Joe's office was one of my Father, as he graduated from Blackthorne and continued to be the best male assassin of all time.

I ploughed on.

"Cameron 'Cammie or Cam' Solomon-Morgan 'Solan'. I am on the Covert Operations track and my clearance is 72." I turned away from the microphone and joined my group. As I turned around I found that the remainder of the Hall had apparently lost their eyebrows in their hairline and their jaws had dropped. The crowd had finally connected the dots, as they realized my beyond high clearance as well as my heritage and extended family: Abigail Cameron and Agent Townsend (aunt and uncle), Rachael Morgan and Matthew Morgan, and Joseph Solomon (mother, father, and dad). They were all top agents in their respective spy services, and most probably their role models. I grinned internally, keeping my expression neutral.

Joe returned to the podium and said," These girls will not reveal their codenames, as it isyou're your mission to find out what they are. I do not suggest hacking into the CIA database as Bookworm has personally informed me that any attempt will not go unpunished, whether the punishment be immediate or given at a later date. You have a week"

Joe walked over to me and gave me a hug, while the hall murmured my apparent 'descendedness' from Solomon, and whispered in my ear," The location of your rooms is in my office." I smiled, extracting myself from Joe's proud hug. We began to descend down the steps and exited the Main Hall.

We collapsed with laughter as soon as the doors closed, holding onto each other to maintain our balance.

I grabbed onto Mick as she gasped, "you should've _'gasp'_ s-seen their _'gasp'_ f-f-faces!", while leaning on my hunched form, doubled over with laughter. Giggles racked our bodies as we shrieked with amusement, until we composed ourselves.

A subconscious message went through our eyes as we glanced at each other after our laughing session ceased. We stood still, eyeing each other before sprinting right. Bex, Macey and Liz stayed, looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Do you really expect me to think you won't find a passageway that will get us to the rooms faster than them?" Macey intoned, nodding her head in the direction the girls ran off in. I groaned at her statement, but turned around and scanned the walls. A saw a portrait with a slight gap between itself and the wall and confidently strode over.

The picture swung away from the wall, leaving a square hole in the wall. I bowed graciously and drawled," After you, your highness." She grinned, entering the hole.

"That's _majesty_ , to you." She purred, but continued without complaint, dragging Bex behind her. I quickly sandwiched Bex in between myself and Macey, making sure that she didn't escape. Liz followed after, covering our disappearance with the portrait.

We arrived at our destination 44 seconds before the rest did, running into each room, surveying the standards and singling out the best room. We found the center one was the best, with 4 queen sized beds, accompanied with desks and chairs, a 64-inch TV, a four-seater sofa, and, much to Macey's delight, two huge walk-in wardrobes. We collapsed on the beds just as the stampede of girls tore through the hallway, fighting for the best room. It wasn't one of our finest moments, nor was it pretty, but it was necessary.

Me and Bex surveyed the damage, while Lizzie and Macey unpacked. Macey often asked for Liz's help as she had an eye for coordination and her OCD, however at sometimes tedious, was perfect for organization and helped Macey's mind rest. Bex and I went through all the rooms, finding out who got what and generally nursing any battle wounds. Bex bandaged Eva's arm, as Tina had slashed them with her reinforced nails (yes that was an actual thing), while I went in search of the infirmary, intent on stealing some skin-grow. I returned a champion, and set Mick's ankle which had dislocated. Once Bex and I finished, we informed them of our plan and they followed us to our room.

By then, Macey and Liz had finished unpacking and found Liz scouring Blackthorne's database. Mick and Anna joined me on my bed, armed with Macey approved face-masks, while Tina and Eva attacked Macey with questions on what makeup look to go for. Kim made a beeline for Liz, and immediately opened her laptop and started to help her.

Before I knew it, Anna was applying a face mask to Mick's legs and feet, while I stared at her in disbelief.

"Uhhh," I began, eyeing the pot, "you know that says _face_ mask, right?"

"Yes. And?" She replied simply.

"And are you noticing any qualms with your choice of placement, hun?"

"It's not just for your face, it just about smooths anything, even clothes."

I rolled my eyes and began to watch Bex and Eva spar in the middle of the room.

"You're next you know." She stated. I stared down at my admittedly rather hairy legs, just as she uttered a devilish sentence.

"Macey said that she is going to wax your legs." I froze as Macey came out from the bathroom and stared at me. Before I knew it, her and Tina were hauling me into the bathroom. It was littered with candles and pots filled with warm wax, the room in a dim light with candles placed here and there. My eyes widened as I observed the torture room I was being confined to. I began to shake as they approached me from both sides with waxing strips and wax in hand.

Needless to say, my blood-curdling screams echoed through the school that night, leaving the boys to shake in fear of our unknown nightly rituals. And Joe knew better than to come to my rescue.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and do feel free to comment on where you think the story should go from here.**

 **BYE ;)**


	8. Chapter 8: You Were Dead

**Chapter 8:**

 **Previously….**

"Macey said that she is going to wax your legs." I froze as Macey came out from the bathroom and stared at me. Before I knew it, her and Tina were hauling me into the bathroom. It was littered with candles and pots filled with warm wax, the room in a dim light with candles placed here and there. My eyes widened as I observed the torture room I was being confined to. I began to shake as they approached me from both sides with waxing strips and wax in hand.

Needless to say, my blood-curdling screams echoed through the school that night, leaving the boys to shake in fear of our unknown nightly rituals. And Joe knew better than to come to my rescue.

 **Enjoy!**

My first thoughts in the morning went a little bit like this.

Muffled moaning of "Cammie….", "Come on Cams…." I noted a voice calling in the background, but voices in my head wasn't exactly new to me so I put it off. I registered extreme pain on my calf that felt like a hand but that was probably desperately not-wanted thoughts of last night seeping through my mental barriers. Then I felt what was like a tsunami in the Atlantic, crash onto my face and torso.

I finally shot out of bed with murder on my mind, and dove for the first person I saw. They just so happened to be our guides, walking calmly through the door that Liz held open. And Zach was right in front.

He wasn't greeted warmly.

Unless you count being knocked out for the half an hour we had before breakfast and slumped on the wall while I showered, dressed and endured more torture (makeup), as _warm_.

The two boys behind him were a few yards behind him and did not witness our, uh, _altercation,_ so as you can guess, were both a little bit freaked out by the fact that the best boy in their year was not conscious.

"Hey, we have one other boy with us, but he's still doing detention so, uh…?", I recognized the lanky boy that Liz had tailed and stalked from the mission trail off as he saw his roommate slumped unconscious. I had just finished having my minimal (only because I threatened to set Abby on Macey) makeup done. We had kept our uniforms because they already coincided with Blackthorne's attire, and Macey had come and made some adjustments to them. She had, long ago, asked Liz to generate a formula for her 'perfect uniform' so that she and I would remember, and be able to ' _manage_ without her', as she had put so delicately.

"Oh, he'll be fine.", filled in Bex, as my mouth was otherwise occupied by the toothbrush Liz had stuffed into my mouth.

"Did you do that?", said the big one, staring at him with wide eyes. He kinda fit the description that Bex had fallen in love with and I could see her frowning at him, ticking off a mental list of his appearance. She shook her head at him and nodded at me in the bathroom, trying to act nonchalant as she realized it was him.

I waggled my eyebrows in the mirror as the two boys swung their heads in synch to me. They looked at me in disbelief as they took in my physique, dismissing the attack as a group effort. I narrowed my eyes at them when they turned their backs.

"I'm Jonas or Jo, and this is Grant.", said Jonas, and I could practically hear Bex's mind going on overdrive, waiting for any more information about Grant.

"Yeah, as Jo was saying... Nick will be joining us when he finishes his detention, which will probably be tomorrow….."

I faltered as his name was mentioned and my brushing ceased at Grant's statement. My mind flashed back to the tombs a few years ago.

 **Flashback**

He was strapped to a chair, is hands tied tightly behind his back, angry red burns from the rope peaking out from behind the rough bindings. His dirty-blonde hair matted to his face and a bloody scar laced on his cheek. I was hiding behind the stone next to the doorway, if you could call it that, supporting myself on the boulder behind me. I leant back, absorbing the horrifying scene. A stone fell from the top of the boulder and fell on my hand, before bouncing onto the floor. I winced but didn't make a sound, freezing so that my barely concealed form was hidden as much as possible.

"I hear you Cameron.", came Catherine's voice, contradicting my wishes.

I came out of my hiding place, and stood in front of his attackers. Hopefully this would bid him some time to recover or even escape. I saw the boy freeze.

"You don't need him, Catherine. Let him go."

"Oh, but no, my dear. That's not how it works. I'm the one who gives the orders around here, not you."

"I'm the one you torture constantly, so why aren't I in that chair?" 

"Don't flatter yourself dear. You already know why he's in the chair and not you."

And the truth is, I did.

Rule No. 1 of Extraction of Information: _Your target's physical pain tolerance is practically nothing. But their emotional pain tolerance is irremovable._

I had no words left.

The tombs began to shake as the first explosives went off. I knew that we had a minute exactly till this 'room' was no more, let alone its captives. I started to shake, my desperation showing clearly as the picture before me began to tear apart the slowly constructed glass of my sanity and mentality.

"Please! You want me, not him. _Please."_

The explosions rang out closer; we had 20 seconds left. Dust began to fall from the ceiling along with some small rocks.

Catherine raised her gun at me.

"Cammie! Run!"

The ceiling caved in. And I ran back into the arms of hell.

 **Flashback Over**

"What did he do?", asked Macey as she applied her own makeup.

"He flooded the ground floor.", replied Jonas.

Bex and Macey turned to look at each other and promptly burst out laughing.

"Cam did something like that last year…... although the effects were more, permanent.", explained Liz, while Macey and Bex composed themselves. She had not been pleased when she found out what I had done.

"What did she do?", asked Grant

"She flooded the Ground Floor…..", she trailed off, leaving the boys confused.

"But that was what Nick did."

"With an extremely powerful chemical solution that dyed the stone walls green."

"Huh.", said the two boys in unison.

 **Time Lapse**

We had finished breakfast earlier, only eating the fruit after our initial bites of the disgusting food Blackthorne had to offer turned out to be atrocious. Zach had come to just before breakfast, thoroughly confused and disorientated, but didn't ask any questions.

He had continuously flirted with me, and despite our altercation, I don't think he recognized me from the Cov Ops mission. I later used this to my advantage.

We had P&E first, and Bex and I smirked at each other.

In my friend's desperation and haste to get me ready, I had forgotten to repack my P&E kit. And there wasn't a passageway to protect my modesty. In my bag I found a slim, dark grey, three-quarter length tracksuit bottom and a contemporary coloured, strappy sports bra.

"Macey, where's my top?", I knew not to protest about the current choices, but I couldn't find my top and I was beginning to get worried.

"Oh, you don't have one, hun.", she replied, apparently not noticing the fact that my modesty was about to jump off a cliff.

I growled at her and she smiled at me in response.

Once we had all finished getting changed, we walked out of the changing rooms as one. The boys were clad in light grey vest tops and dark blue shorts and were stretching in the middle of the room. I could feel their eyes on us and I immediately felt self-conscious.

Once we finished stretching, the coach came out.

"Alright kids. I want you to find a partner and spar. Once you have a winner move onto another person. Yes, Ms. …?"

"Baxter.", said Bex. "Can we spar with the boys?"

"No, Ms. Baxter. I don't know what level of training you've had, and I don't want any of you to get hurt."

He suddenly had 15 girls glaring at him with murder on their minds, but he was blind as well as sexist, and promptly tuned around and went into the office.

We began to split off and spar. I started with Liz, taking her out in less than 11 seconds, making sure I didn't hurt her too much. I then sparred Kim, Courtney, Tina, Mick, Eva, Macey and Annie. I won against them in quick succession and partnered up with Bex. She had just come from sparing with Mick and looked a little roughed up.

We had been sparring for about 10 minutes before things began to get more interesting. She dropped and swung her leg at my feet and I jumped, her leg swinging harmlessly under me. Her momentum carried her around, her back facing me and I kicked her forward, but she turned it into a roll at the last second. I dropped into a fighting stance as she turned around. She began to use the Harley Maneuver; a complicated series of meticulously placed punches and kicks that placed you on offence, without giving your opponent an opening. I blocked these easily and punched her stomach, causing her to double over, and I brought my knee to her forehead. She staggered back but kept her hands in front of her. As she straightened up, I launched myself at her, wrapping my legs around her head and squeezing. Her face began to go red as her circulation was cut off and she tapped out.

She stood up and clasped my hand as she always did to let me know that she was okay.

Alright, kids. How are you doing?", asked the coach as he emerged from the office.

"Has anyone fought all of their classmates and won?", he asked hopefully and glanced at the boys. I rose my hand.

He didn't see me till he finished scanning the boys; none of them raised their hands. I'm pretty sure that they had fought each other twice over but none of them had won each and every round.

The coach saw my determined hand and surprise flickered over his face.

"You've sparred with all of your classmates and won?"

"Yes, sir.", I replied politely. I was about to burst from anger, but fortunately, Madame Dabney had taught us excellent poker faces.

"I'll think you'll find, Mr. Hook, that these ladies are not quite what they seem."

Mr. Solomon emerged from the doorway and started to where we were.

"Hmmmm. Well, we'll see how you do against the boys, but I'm going to have to stay here to supervise."

I heard Joe gritting his teeth, and I smirked when the teacher wasn't looking. Underestimation was our most powerful ally.

"Mr. Anderson, you're up." 

He was destroyed within 5 seconds and had to be carried to the infirmary. But Jonas was known as the 'lame pony' in P&E, so I didn't earn any recognition from the students, or the teacher.

I proceeded to defeat the rest of the Blackthorne senior class one by one, and gradually widen the boy's eyes. I used the most illegal moves I've ever used in my life to earn their respect, and eventually ended up triumphant standing over a face-down, unconscious Grant. He had been the most difficult to beat, probably due to the muscles lining his frame and enormous build.

I looked up at the (remainder) of the class, and saw fear in their eyes.

It was progress.

"Okay, Ms. Solan. You have proved yourself worthy of your name, but I have saved the best till last."

"Mr. Goode," 

Zach walked up and smirked at me.

"You're goin' down, Gallagher Girl."

"In your dreams, Blackthorne Boy.", came my snarky reply, as I gracefully dropped into a fighting stance.

"Well, my dreams have a habit of coming true."

Evident that I wasn't going to continue with the banter, he shut up and took up a stance identical to mine.

He feinted a right hook, and swiped at my legs. I let his foot connect with the side of my knee, and turned my fall into a round off, coming up standing. He eyed me warily, but continued his offence, pummeling me with a series of random punches. I went on autopilot, boredly blocking all of his attacks and remaining on the defense. Eventually, once he had exhausted all of his attack moves, I went on the offence.

I swiped at his right cheek in his momentary exhaustion, and used my momentum to carry me around to the right. I lowered my head to my shin, swinging my left leg straight, up, behind me and up to Zach's face, which had swung to the left at my punch. My leg swung round to the floor, righting myself and leaving me facing him, completing the circle I had made with my foot. I didn't stop there, however. I used the remainder of my momentum to swing myself round and into the air, roundhouse kicking him again in the head.

I landed, my arms defending my face, standing up straight and my feet planted either side of Zach's hips.

Respect. I saw respect in the teacher's eyes. I didn't see the student's eyes, given that they were still staring at Zach's motionless body, but I hoped that we would be taken seriously from now on.

My internal clock told me that we had 5 minutes of the lesson left, and I saw the rest of the girls realise this and head to the changing rooms. I followed suit.

 **Time Lapse**

The rest of the day was uneventful, except for Cov Ops. I got to see Abby, and she gave the first lesson all day that had proven to be educational. We had been put into groups to sit at tables, and we had all been seated next our guides. The hour for that period had been filled with innuendo's and flirting, all from Zach. We had been given at least 5 worksheets to fill out for tomorrows lesson, which almost seemed to borderline the standard at Gallagher. To be honest it kinda eased the home sickness.

I was pretty sure that Zach had picked up one of my worksheets, so I had travelled the troubling distance from my door across the width of the hallway and to the door opposite ours.

I knocked on the door and Grant answered.

"Zach, I think someone's here to see you.", called out Grant, in a suggestive tone. I rolled my eyes at him. Zach appeared in the doorway, sporting a bruise on his cheekbone and a smirk.

"Now…. What would a Gallagher Girl like you, want from a Blackthorne Boy like me?"

"Homework." 

He stared at me blankly.

"Cov Ops, to be exact. I've only got four sheets, so I'm pretty sure you've got the fifth."

"Gimme a second.", he replied. "Come'on in,"

I walked through the door, just as a boy sitting at one of the desks swiveled round on his chair.

"So, who might this lovely ladi-", he faltered.

The boy in front of me took my breath away. Memories crashed through my brain, drowning me in nostalgia.

" _Cammie! Run!"_

"C-c-c-Cams….?"

"Nicki?"

His jaw was hanging as he stared at me, while the other three stared at us confusedly.

"I thought you were dead.", we said in unison.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! These will take longer to release as they are not already typed up. Please review!**

 **BYE ;)**


	9. Chapter 9: Long Lost Found

**Chapter 9: Long Lost Found**

 **Previously….**

"Now…. What would a Gallagher Girl like you, want from a Blackthorne Boy like me?"

"Homework."

He stared at me blankly.

"Cov Ops, to be exact. I've only got four sheets, so I'm pretty sure you've got the fifth."

"Gimme a second.", he replied. "Come 'on in,"

I walked through the door, just as a boy sitting at one of the desks swiveled around on his chair.

"So, who might this lovely ladi- ", he faltered.

The boy in front of me took my breath away. Memories crashed through my brain, drowning me in nostalgia.

" _Cammie! Run!"_

"C-c-c-Cams….?"

"Nicki?"

His jaw was hanging as he stared at me, while the other three stared at us confusedly.

"I thought you were dead.", we said in unison.

 **Enjoy!**

I flew at him, and he barely had time to open his arms. I somehow managed to wrap my legs around him, despite the chair he was sitting on. His face was buried in my hair and mine was in his torso.

He kept muttering,

"You were dead, you were dead, you were dead…", while I sobbed into his shoulder, the tears flowing freely.

"Oh, God, sis. I missed you _so much.",_ he said squeezing me tighter.

"Sis?!", I heard behind me. But I didn't care. _He was alive._

I sobbed again into his broad shoulders. My words had deserted me and my mind was a blubbering mess. His death had broken me. I fell into depression; his absence filled with the shattered glass Joe had painstakingly rebuilt after my father's death. I felt like I had nothing left. I did have nothing left.

I saw the weapons I was trained with and the weapon I was turning myself into as the only permanent thing in my life, and I turned to them for stability. It was a dark time for me, and let's leave it at that.

Every time I closed my eyes, I would see him and the last time I saw him. My mind had continued torturing me even after I emerged from my depression.

But he was _here._ He was _tangible._ He was _real._

I leant back and just drank him in.

His cheekbones were more defined; his spots had finally left. He wore his dirty-blonde hair short-ish around the side and longer at the front, a small bit hanging over his forehead. He had grown about half a foot and still had a lean figure, despite the muscles now lining his frame.

We didn't say anything; nothing needed to be said.

After 10 minutes of staring at each other, getting to grips with reality, I clambered off him and turned to face the boys, all the while keeping a hand in contact with him.

"Huh?", said Grant.

 **Time Lapse**

We had filled in the boys on our history, never leaving each other's side. You find that happens when you're separated from your twin, watch them die and then discover that they are at a school you're doing an exchange at. Weird, huh.

The girls had come rushing in, screeching at Nick. They had seen him often as he had trained with us, and were devastated when he 'died'.

"Come on girls ease up, he's not a cuddly bear.", I said, as they attacked him with bear hugs.

I was trying to use humor to cover up my distress. My dead brother was alive, and my mind couldn't cope.

I pulled him aside, into the hallway and opened my mouth, but I didn't know how to phrase what I needed to say to him. I needed to not be wearing the facade that everyone has for society, for fear of being judged. I needed to put aside my self-consciousness and fear of rejection because, this was my brother and he was never going to leave me again. At least, he wouldn't without a hell of a fight.

He waited patiently, knowing exactly what I needed. I needed him, but I wanted something else. I should be rejoicing madly, but for some reason I was subdued. I felt betrayed almost. He had left me.

After finally knowing that he was fine, that he was well, that he was alive, I could finally let myself be mad at him for leaving me.

It had hurt me in so many ways, I was mad at him for not coming back. I was mad at him for staying in that chair. I was mad for him trading himself for me, in that god-damn chair. I was mad that he hadn't done something! But what I was mad specifically at, could not be phrased with words.

I began to hit his chest, whimpering at my minds anguish. He remained solid, unmoving, looking down at me solemnly, and softly placing his hands on my hips as I continued to thump his chest uselessly.

In that moment, I wasn't a spy fighting for her morals, her sanity and logic. I was a girl. A girl who had lost everything. A girl who had adjusted and learnt to deal with the pain, to suppress it, but having to dredge up and deal with all the emotions again.

My mind was a breezy, haunted house. There was a rumbling sound in the attic, and something had died under the porch; the furniture was crumbling away and the food had gone moldy. But somehow my head managed to go to the shelf that hid the forbidden photo album and start flicking through the pages.

The flashbacks behind my eyes wouldn't stop, and the memories kept flowing. The heartbreak coursed through me, shoving me to my breaking point. I was fighting a losing battle of my mind and reality, and my heart and brain couldn't remember who they were fighting for.

Tears kept flowing down my face as I hit Nick, while he whispered nothings in my ear; reassuring nonsense to calm me down.

But it was too much to handle, and as we slowly collapsed to the floor, Nick rocking me in his arms, I blacked out.

When I came to I saw Joe and Nick at the end of my bed. Joe was holding my hand and looking at me worriedly, but he looked relieved when he saw my eyes flutter open.

I had done this before. Whenever I learned something new that my mind couldn't handle, I blacked out, letting my subconscious be the judge of the battle and sort out my newfound knowledge. Sleeping helped me sort through my mind, cleaning said haunted house, buying new food and wiping the dust away. It sorted through everything I knew and my opinions, making them clearer and giving myself some leisure time to articulate it.

Sometimes, when you must know everything instantly, at the tip of your fingers, it's nice to have some time to process and think.

"How you doing, Cams", asked Joe.

"Good. I'm sorry for reacting like that Nick... I really am glad that I have you, it's just that selfish part of me that couldn't quite cope...", I trailed of, looking at my feet.

"Cams?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's fine. I understand. I felt the same way when you were out…. I went a bit mental. I just hadn't realized that you were real then, and I was just enjoying a wonderful dream. "

I stared at him.

"You took the words as if you plucked them out of my brain.", I did with a smile." Joe? How about you?"

"I do have to admit I did attack him first before giving him a hug, but we're fine now. I still don't think it's sunk in yet.", he said. And in truth, it wouldn't. Not until I woke up tomorrow morning and he was still here. Not until he eats breakfast alongside me in the Hall. Not until he was crushed by my mother's hug.

They left my bedside so I could collect my thoughts and have some time to myself. I had to keep on reminding myself that Nick was still going to be there when I came back to my room.

I slid out of bed and stood there. I pushed everything out of my mind, and began to make a checklist of reality.

Homework, I needed the homework.

Mum and Abby. I'm sure Abby didn't know as she would have called the moment she found out. To be honest I didn't blame her. The mind does attempt to block things out when they're too painful to handle, and she probably had to take some time to accept an apparent doppelgänger student, of a lost loved one.

Food. That was second on the list, right underneath calling mum and telling Abby. Maybe Abby didn't teach him? He might be on the R&D track. But that didn't sound like him. Besides, it's not like you could get around this school without seeing someone, or recognizing their name on a list.

I had made my way back to my room, and Nick was sitting on Macey's bed and chatting to her. They had always been close, and who knows? Now that they've both matured (on the outside), maybe they'll be something more.

I've always wanted a politician sister in-law….

I found my phone in my bag and sat on the foot of my bed. I fingered the phone nervously, not sure of what to do. How do you start a conversation like that?

 _Hey mum. How are you, everything's great here. Guess who I found? You're long-lost-presumed-dead-son! Hope you're all doing well there. Oh, and by the way, can you buy me some everlasting M &M's please? I seem to have run out._

Nick got off the bed after Macey went to the bathroom, and sat down next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him.

"Together.", he said, and I nodded.

I dialed the number and put the phone on speaker.

"Hey kiddo, what's up?"

Nick sobbed when he heard her voice. I gripped his hand. He was just as scared as I was.

"What's wrong sweetie?!", came her voice again.

"Nothing's wrong mum. Its more than fine actually. I think you need to come down to Blackthorne."

"Why? What's wrong?"

I couldn't keep it together any longer. I held the phone towards Nick, and he took it in his free hand.

"Hi, Mum."

Silence.

"It's me,", he faltered. He took a deep breath and continued, "Nicki."

 **AN: I hope you liked this chapter! I know its shorter than usual, I will try to make it longer next time. I am also looking for a beta reader to help with the plot line and grammar; things like that. Because of this and school, I will have to take longer to release chapters, so bear with me. Please review!**

 **BYE ;)**


	10. Chapter 10: Zach

**Chapter 10: Zach**

 **Previously….**

"Together.", he said, and I nodded.

I dialed the number and put the phone on speaker.

"Hey kiddo, what's up?"

Nick sobbed when he heard her voice. I gripped his hand. He was just as scared as I was.

"What's wrong sweetie?!", came her voice again.

"Nothing's wrong mum. Its more than fine actually. I think you need to come down to Blackthorne."

"Why? What's wrong?"

I couldn't keep it together any longer. I held the phone towards Nick, and he took it in his free hand.

"Hi, Mum."

Silence.

"It's me,", he faltered. He took a deep breath and continued, "Nicki."

 **Enjoy!  
**

Silence.

"Excuse me?"

"Mum? It's me.", desperation began crawling into his voice.

"No….. who is this?!", she exclaimed into the phone, adamant disbelief etched into her voice. I took the phone from Nick's hands as tears were flowing down his face at our mother's reaction.

"Mum? You need to come down here immediately.", and I hung up. If I was right, her mere maternal instinct would drag her here, if her curiosity lost the battle. Nick looked desperately at the phone, holding onto my hand for dear life. And I daren't let go. He needed someone who accepted him; someone he had lost and still needed him, rather than dismissing his desperate need for her. I _couldn't_ let go.

He leant into my side, sobbing, and I rested my head on his. We drifted off, on the floor at the base of my bed, after hours of grief and worry, blood, sweat and tears, and a healthy dose of sleep-deprivation.

 **Zach's Pov**

Cammie had asked to talk to Nick outside, and I turned to the others. The girls had sat on Nicks bed and were grinning profusely, while the boys were still motionless in their pre-sibling-knowledge-state-of-mind, shock and confusion pasted to their faces.

"And that, is probably why there's nothing in his casefile.", I said, directing my statement to Jonas.

Every time a boy joined the brotherhood, we would investigate their legacies and try to uncover their past. It payed to be curious. However, when Nick joined, his casefile continnued his appearance and nothing else. Nil. Nada. I could go on.

No-one has nothing on their casefile and ends up admitted to the school without some serious talent.

Which he apparently had and I no longer doubted..

Macey chimed in, ''He was going to join the R&D track before the, uhh, _incident,_ if that helps."

"So he cleaned his casefile, and invented a new legacy."

The other boys came out of their stupor as we heard a slump outside. I raced to the door and threw it open to a huddled Nick rocking Cammie's motionless body. My mind automatically went to the worst. _Heart-failure?_ I immediately dismissed the thought; she was in shape and healthy, that was near impossible to have heart-failure. I saw her back rise and fall in his arms. A pang went through me as I saw she was okay, but the fact that she was unconscious did not escape my notice.

"What happened?!", something unfamiliar creeping into my voice. I couldn't name it so I let it go.

"When her mind can't cope she either… turns to weapons, or blacks out.", said Nick. "Apparently, the latter hasn't changed."

My eyes widened as his unspoken implication registered. She… cut herself? I gazed at her peaceful and clandestinely broken figure. The very same figure that had trumped me at my own game, broken me out of my reverie of a safe-haven and kicked my ass, along with everyone else in the class.

I had continuously flirted with her, hiding my childlike resentment and curiosity with what I knew. I knew how to be a player. I stuck with what I knew because that was what was solid, what I coul rely on and what I was known for. It was built into the respect I had made for myself for fear of being pushed away. Fear of being alone.

I was taught how to read people. And I thought I was good at that. I could name the frequency of your voice by mere sound, know which was your dominant hand and identify you by a mere shuffle of your feet, but I never _knew_ them. And she had known me for less than 24 hours, pushed me to my breaking point and tested me on my resolve. She had pushed me further than my teachers had in the duration of my extensive education, shoving me into new waters.

It was a necessary for a spy to know themselves. For how could you be sent to complete top-secret and essential missions if you didn't know your limits? And I didn't even know myself from the looks of things.

 **Time Lapse**

Nick had taken Cammie down to the infirmary to wake up and the girls had joined us in our room. Jonas and Liz were playing a game where you had to hack into each other's computer while blocking the oters attempts. From the looks of it Liz was winning.

Bex and Grant were sparring in the middle of the room while Macey circled them critiquing their style. Her criticism seemed to be mostly aimed at Grant but the odd statement was thrown at Bex. However, these sounded like criticism that was said frequently and was just Bex's take on a maneuver. She was an excellent fighter, no doubt about it, taking on Grant without batting an eyelid. She calculated all her opponents moves before he seemed to even think of them, countering his counter moves with techniques I've never even seen before. I watched mesmerized. Not in a creepy way, but I was mesmerized by all of them. Liz's fingers flew deftly over the keyboard, so sure of herself, she never looked down. Not arrogantly, but as if with practice and a gentle confidence.

Macey was pointing out things of miniscule errors, her eyes scanning expertly over the two. Bex was sparring effortlessly, as if dancing. Grant would stop and move; rough and with necessity while she would dance around and through him, light on her feet despite her athletic figure

She was experienced. They all were. Even Liz, who seemed like an extremely petite southern belle, had a hardened aura around her, now that I noticed it. As you can tell, I was taking my new flaws seriously.

The girl's eyes held an age that their faces didn't agree with, much less conform to. It made me wonder what they had done or what they had seen to make them that way.

I sat there for the next half hour completing the sheets that Madame Cameron had set, and it turns out I did have the 5th sheet. She had left her other sheets in here when she had visited earlier and I took the liberty of copying her cursive writing and filling in the answers. It was the least I could do.

When I was done, I gathered the sheets and headed to her room, intent on leaving them on her desk. I opened the door and made straight for the desks lined up on the wall, leaving the sheets there. I turned, catching sight of two figures huddled together at the base of one of the beds. Moving closer I saw that it was Nick and Cammie, leaning on each other with a phone on their laps.

I stared at them. I had a nagging feeling inside me. I honestly don't know how I didn't see the resemblance earlier. They had the same olive skin tone that somehow seemed to be both tanned and pale, the same hair colour and face shape; sharp cheekbones with thin-ish lips and dark eyelashes.

I looked at them with all these things running through my mind, yet I could only think of how I would trade places with Nick in a heartbeat.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry its** _ **much**_ **shorter than usual, I wanted it to end with Zach realizing that he liked Cammie. I hope you liked Zach's point of view, comment if you want me to do other POV's. I would really appreciate any story plot ideas as I am beginning to run out! Please Review!**

 **BYE ;)**


	11. Chapter 11: Library Has Been Compromised

**Chapter 11: Library Has Been Compromised**

* * *

 **Previously…..**

When I was done, I gathered the sheets and headed to her room, intent on leaving them on her desk. I opened the door and made straight for the desks lined up on the wall, leaving the sheets there. I turned, catching sight of two figures huddled together at the base of one of the beds. Moving closer I saw that it was Nick and Cammie, leaning on each other with a phone on their laps.

I stared at them. I had a nagging feeling inside me. I honestly don't know how I didn't see the resemblance earlier. They had the same olive skin tone that somehow seemed to be both tanned and pale, the same hair colour and face shape; sharp cheekbones with thin-ish lips and dark eyelashes.

I looked at them with all these things running through my mind, yet I could only think of how I would trade places with Nick in a heartbeat.

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

We were seated in the Main Hall, under the newly fixed skylight, and munching on breakfast. Nick was seated next to me, while Bex was to my left and Zach was opposite.

Liz had remained in the dorm room, on the premise of finishing one of the many new extra-credit assignments that the school had to offer. It wasn't an irregular occurrence, so we let it pass. Jonas had offered to stay with her but she ushered him out the door, babbling about malnutrition and the negative side effects of hunger.

Zach had been quiet, no, _subdued,_ fitted better. Our usual banter had ceased and I was concerned about him. I feared that I had done something to offend him, but I couldn't think of anything I had done, let alone hurt him.

Ever since I had found Nick (2 days ago), he had been quiet, surrounded by an aura of wistful jealousy, seemingly, but I couldn't fathom why. Had he wanted a sibling? Or had he lost one?

The questions ran though my head like bullets as I absent mindedly placed bacon in my mouth. The doors swung open, loudly crashing into the walls at their momentum.

Every head in the room turned to face the doorway, in which a lithe figure dominated, arms thrown out to the sides and her legs planted delicately, yet solidly on the floor. She had wild look on her face as she scanned the crowd, and I genuinely feared for the student's safety as her jagged gaze raked over us. Her eyes pinpointed on our table and she flew at us. I braced myself at the predicted onslaught but was met with empty air as I was left untouched.

She had wrapped Nick into a tight embrace, whispering, "My baby, my poor baby... oh, you were gone, you were gone" in his ear, while he had hugged her back with just as much ferocity, his face buried in her tangled hair. Bex ploughed on with her breakfast.

 **Time Lapse**

We were seated in Abby's office while Mum sat in the chair and stared at Nick with an intense sense of desperation, as if he were to vanish. I had led mum to Abby's office about 7 minutes ago, away from prying eyes and leaving the staggering silence in peace. This did not remain so.

"How...?" inquired mum, apparently incapable of finishing her sentence. Nick had been handling this very well, considering the circumstances and had not spoken but held mums hand tightly, reminding her that he was tangible and not a ghost.

I leaned forward, my interested piqued. I had not dared ask such a question, the implication of mum's question obvious, for fear that Nick would recoil and shut down. I had enjoyed the last few days we had spent together enormously, and I didn't want to damper the atmosphere, or cause him to withdraw.

He took his time mustering up the nerve to relive his story, and we did so in encouraging silence.

"Well, umm, after the cave-in, I woke up and saw no one with me so I figured that whoever had survived had gone...I-uh-I found some of your hair," he nodded at me," and thought that there had been a fight. With there being two of them-" he was cut off.

"Two?" I asked irediculously.

"Yes Catherine and her brother...?" he trailed of in question. "You didn't see both of them?".

"No I only saw Catherine..."

"Anyway," he glanced back at mum who had remained silent. "With there being two of them, I figured that there had been a fight. I hunted around some more and found blood... A-a lot of blood. And I... thought it was yours." his voice broke. I gripped his free hand tightly as tears pricked in my eyes.

"I found my way out of the tombs, and entered the woods. I travelled aimlessly for days, hours I don't know. But the last thing I saw before passing out, was the mansion. I guess someone found me and took me in.", he stated.

"I demanded a laptop as soon as I came to, I didn't want anyone knowing of my past, I didn't want anyone to know who I was; I changed tracks, my last name, my personality... but I couldn't let go of my name."

"My name was all I had left. I couldn't let go of the name I was given by the ones that I couldn't find... I-I just couldn't bring myself to do that..." he trailed off.

I figured that he had left out the painful part- maybe he had separated the memory from the feelings, like I had done.

A knock interrupted the silence that ensued, piercing through the sound like a knife. I swam out of my reverie and grabbed the door handle as if it was an offender.

"Yes?", I asked, my voice sounding hoarse and harsh to my ears.

"You need to get down to Gallagher, Ms. Solan.", said the man in front of me.

I stepped out of the door to give Nick and mum time to work through the silent conversation they were having.

"What? Why?", I probed, demanding answers.

"A student has gone missing; we have presumed kidnapped as there are signs of a struggle."

"Who?"

"One of your friends, they said.", the voice sounded monotonous, indifferent, as I could not focus on his face. Another day at the slightly more advanced office, ticking of the list of daily disasters happening.

"Uh, _Bookworm_ , I think is her name."

My breath hitched. No. No. No. Not Lizzie. Not small, petite, harmless Lizzie. She had been taken. The man cracked under my undeniably anger filled and mortified eyes. He quickly turned on his heel and stalked off.

I leant against the wall sliding down the stone in defeat, my arms resting on the knees drawn up to my chest.

The door opened and Nick and my mum appeared. Their sombre faces vanished as they noticed my broken figure slumped against the wall, my eyes distant.

"What?", asked Nick patiently, crouching down.

"Lizzie... gone." I read ponder unable to speak.

"What?", they both questioned again. Nick had been quite close to Lizzie, them being on the same track and all, and Mum had developed a soft spot for her.

I cleared my throat and continued, "They think that Lizzie's been kidnapped"

 **Zach POV**

Cammie had left a while ago, after the woman who I thought was her mum attacked Nick.

I hadn't talked to her properly for a while. I had stepped back from my usual facade of cockiness and reevaluated my state of mind and came up with reclusiveness. I had searched for the reason and I came up empty handed. Or rather I came up empty handed for those reasons that I found plausible. For those implausible, I had one.

I liked Cammie.

A daunting prospect, I had only known her for 3 days, for Christ's sake. And I was already falling for her. It scared me to my core. We are trained to not have weaknesses. Weaknesses include habit, preferences and people. And I had just smashed the latter.

I was falling for those captivating eyes, which held an astonishing age and beauty that no other blue-eyed girl seemed to possess. I was falling for her humour, or sometimes lack off. I was falling for her attitude, her wit, her hair, her smile, the slight freckles on her nose.

I was falling for her, and I feared if I gazed upon her face, or encouraged words from her gorgeous lips, I would fall; faster and harder. Which from my experience, would only make the landing that much more painful.

The doors opened again, this time more discreet. Nick and Cammie emerged and glanced at our table. The girls immediately got the message and rose, gathering their things and leaving. We quickly followed suit and followed the girls out; I felt the heavy weight of 100 students with their trained gaze boring into my back, as if willing the secrets out of me. Secrets which I didn't keep, let alone know.

The girls were huddled around Cam as she spoke, " Library has been compromised." They froze.

It seemed like time had stood still, they stood motionless, leading me to doubt the measure of time, if not for the clock ticking behind us.

They headed for the dorms and disappeared out of sight. We turned to Nick. He had a solemn, slightly panicked expression on his face and simply uttered the words, "Liz has been captured."

Jonas gasped. I guessed I wasn't the only one to fall for one of those girls.

"What?", I said, genuine shock woven into my voice. People didn't just get captured here. I'm pretty sure that Liz had broken yet another record in Blackthorne history, because I seriously doubt the fact that someone had stolen a spy genius from a spy school with state of the art security.

The girls had come back now, determined sadness emanating from their broken figures. I had never seen the girls so united before, despite their obvious lacking of character and humanity. They seemed to be on autopilot, contradicting the vibe of 'loss', as they had suited into spy gear. Comms were in their ears and, secretive knives were sheathed within the leather of the bodysuits. I was surprised to see guns holstered on Cammie's hips, a pair. I had not put her down for one to use such volatile weaponry; her fighting alone was enough to deter most.

Macey had Nun-chucks tied to her suit, and I thought this fitted perfectly with her personality, a precise, hardcore style of fighting that I had no doubt she had mastered. Bex, meanwhile, had nothing extra visible, apart from a wider array of knives strapped to her, not that she needed them of course.

They looked deadly, the void of humanity creating a trio of robots. The three were intent on their task and nothing would defer them, like a computer; precise and absolute in the task at hand.

Despite the circumstances, I saw Grant drooling at Bex (I guess we had all fallen victim to their charms), staring at her accentuated and toned body appreciatively. I was as well in awe at the sight before me, but the imminent and still unknown task at hand took priority.

Macey took charge as Cammie slipped some black spheres into a clasp, no doubt holding some deadly weapon inside.

"Mr Solomo-Solan, I mean, will be meeting us shortly, but that will be the only person available to assist us right now. Ms. Solan is currently inactive so she cannot assist. I suggest that you go and gear up, unless of course you do not want to help."

Jo bolted as soon as she had finished, sprinting for the staircase faster than I had ever seen him run.

Grant and I followed.

 **Time lapse**

We were seated in Macey's private jet while Cammie piloted, covering for Mr Solomon, or should I say 'Solan', while he called in at Langley to inform them of our mission.

The girls had found a note left that said,

 _"The fish has gone, and all have come,_

 _The reptile has fired its first known gun, and all have gone._

 _The bird had kept up and the royalty made peace,_

 _but the fourth had not yet played its piece."_

They had barely touched the note, as if it had disgusted them; clearly it held some sort of powerful history over them, as well as the location of Liz. From what I had gathered from the girls was that Liz had been taken to Mr. Solo- _Solan'_ s house (he had a house?!) and we would work from there. Jonas had assumed his usual positions as Technological Operator, and was currently syncing all our comms to his computer, while Nick conversed with Cammie, and Grant was having a hushed conversation with Bex.

She seemed to not be paying much attention but Grant then said something that made her lift her head up sharply. I looked away, it was bad to eavesdrop, and privacy was something cherished by spies. It was not for my eyes or ears, and if I needed to know, then Grant would tell me.

The hours passed by in a blink of an eye and we started to descend into what I could make out as another mansion. We would be jogging to Mr. Solan's house from here and infiltrating the suspected area. We landed with a bump, and all conversations ceased, filling the air with tension as the engine slowly died and we filled out the plane.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I haven't updated for a while, and I will continue to do so till my school tests finish. Please Review! It makes me want to write more!**

 **BYE ;)**


	12. Chapter 12: Haunted

**Chapter 12: Haunted**

* * *

 **Previously...**

The hours passed by in a blink of an eye and we started to descend into what I could make out as another mansion. We would be jogging to Mr. Solan's house from here and infiltrating the suspected area. We landed with a bump, and all conversations ceased, filling the air with tension as the engine slowly died and we filled out the plane.

 **I have to make an amendment to the previous chapter: Joe Solan is not joining them. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Zach POV**

My breath was taken away at the sight before me. Dawn was breaking along the silhouette of the stone building before me. This mansion was _old_.

Blackthorne's mansion was huge and intricate, but new. You could tell that the cleverly imitated rustic halls and artwork was fake; the walls too clean and bare of soft degradation and greenery.

However the building before me had climbing ivy tracing intricate patterns along the ancient stone walls; the huge windows creating order and a measurement of size in rows. The huge oak doors were oak, and I'm sure that they were enforced enormously.

"Where are we?", I asked, in awe.

Cammie turned to face me and spoke the first few words since the news.

"Gallagher Academy"

Grant whistled. That earned him a glare from Bex.

"Do you really want to wake up the entire school?"

"But, that was quiet-"

He cut himself off short at the sight of the three girls shaking their heads at him, and Macey holding up her hand as if waiting for something. As if on cue, a light turned on on the top floor.

We sprinted towards the towering walls, flattening ourselves under the window panes. The light eventually went out, and we all breathed out. We did not need to be mobbed by 8th graders at 4 in the morning.

We started the long and arduous jog to Mr Solan's house, keeping a watch out for early morning risers, as they would recognise the girls, despite the hoodies and yoga pants they had donned. They had a reputation to uphold and we weren't prepared to sacrifice the entire school's cover, by running through Roseville (I think that's what it's called) in top spy gear.

After half an hour of running, we arrived at our destination. Mr Solan did not have a pass or key that would disable the alarm system, and with our luck, the moment it was turned off, we would be ambushed.

As a result I was stumped on how we would enter the premises without triggering the alarms, or going in with a tank.

My questions were soon answered. After Bex and Cammie shared a knowing grimace, glancing down the hill, they aligned themselves behind us and shoved us down the hill.

I tumbled down the hill, grabbing at grass blades and bushes, trying to end my fall. Panic grew inside me at an alarmingly fast rate, as I desperately wondered why the girls had turned on us.

However, if I had just shoved two agents down a hill, I would be picking them off one by one as the fell. I heard no shots ring out.

I saw the girls zip past us, falling in similar fashion, but in a dead-straight line to the bottom. I followed suit, ceasing my flailing hands and curving my body.

I reached the bottom and glared at Cammie, who had pushed me. It felt unnatural, but not uncalled for.

"What was that for?!", I grumbled, brushing of leaves and dirt.

"We had to get past the security alarms.", she replied simply. It almost seemed like an attempt to close the growing gap between us, but the gap was what I needed at the moment. I needed to figure out if I was brave enough to do something about it, or remain where I was. In the friend zone. Cue shudder.

We waited at the end of the hill for the other two to finish their tumbling.

As soon as Grant got his bearings he dove at Bex, practically snarling at her.

"What they hell do you think you're doing?!", he growled at her.

She grabbed his neck and, too fast for my trained eye to see, had him slammed on the ground. Nick hovered, unable to decide his course of action. I, myself, stayed mum.

"Getting us past the alarm system. These motion sensors are trained to register a monitored and controlled descent; otherwise, the alarm would go off every time a leaf fell, or an animal lost its footing.", she replied calmly, as a sheepish expression crossed his face. She let go and stalked off into the woods.

We continued the trek to the house in silence and at a much slower pace. We needed to conserve our energy.

After walking for five minutes we had to stop. Cammie was ahead of our group, so when she froze, a good 600 meters from where the house was visible, we froze too.

She held up her hand to signal that we should wait. After a few minutes of silence, a drone flew over our heads. She had stopped us, just so that we were all under some sort of cover, protecting us from the drones line of sight. She stayed motionless for a few more minutes before returning to our group.

"There are about 35 men in the house, from my judgement... there's seven entrances to the house, and 6 of us, so 5 each? I don't mind taking an extra set."

She looked at me and Grant, as if talking about how to split money for dinner. Grant and I nodded mutely, my mind fizzing angrily about the extra danger Cammie was taking upon herself.

 **Time lapse**

We had split up from that point and approached the house from all directions. There were 7 entrance routes into he house (don't ask how), and we planned to take one each, save for Cammie, who would take two. I had been appointed for backup on the second door, if anything go unplanned. We all eventually came back into sight; Cammie about 10 feet to my right and Grant presumably round the corner. Jonas's voice sounded in my ear as we approached.

"Enter in, three, two, one, go!"

We surged forward, kicking in the doors. Cammie had already successfully taken the second door and the five guards inside with one of the black spheres in less than 4 seconds.

I tuned my attention to the first guard who I came across, sidestepping, dropping and swinging my leg under his feet. I slapped a Napotine patch on his neck as he hit the floor.

I moved onto the next target, swerving to miss the fist that came flying towards me. My hand reached out, and helping the man in the direction of his hand, curled my right arm out to place the mans head in a headlock.

I continued to defeat my set five men in similar fashion, using their own unique style of fighting against them. I had just finished the last man, and was scanning around for Liz, when I heard it.

I had been monitoring Cammie ever since the doors had been knocked down, always keeping her in my peripheral vision, and currently she was fighting the remainder of her ten men. Three were left and she was handling it beautifully.

When you're fighting a group of people, they don't approach you one by one, like they do in movies. They have to attack at the same time, in order to confuse you. Your mind has to be split into multiple sections, in which you delegate one attacker in order to process and react to their movements.

But ten different sections of your brain was near impossible and even more so to keep up. Even after the majority of your attackers are gone, keeping up the reminding three is no easy feat.

She had knocked out the third, and turned her attention to the second, her mind briefly focusing solely on him. Which was when it happened.

Some sort of sense was triggered in her mind when the man behind her was aiming the flat of a placemat at her head, so she turned around and blocked the object hurtling towards her neck. She started to attack him, when she faltered, staring at something on the man's shirt, while the other prepared a kick behind her back, and launched himself at her.

She crumpled.

I charged over, grabbing a sturdy looking vase (stone), and struck the nearest man. He fell like a stone, and I slapped a napotine patch on his face.

I hit the second man on the forehead wth the curved base of the vase. He was out like a light.

I dropped the vase and rushed over to Cammie, assessing her injuries. Amazingly she had none, except the fact that she wasn't breathing.

No. No. _No._

In a moment of pure panic, I grabbed her shoulders and shook her, attempting to shake life into her. Tears threatened to spill.

My mind had a moment of clarity, and I turned her onto my lap, her face down, and thumped her on the back.

Her back arched as she slumped back into the floor, taking in a huge breath.

I let out a breath I didn't even realise I was holding in and fell forward onto her. She didn't notice for a few seconds, and continued her deep, ragged breaths.

She started to sit up and I lifted myself off her.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before I saw a mixture of pain and sadness cross her face. I pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing her as she buried her head into the crook of my neck.

I pulled back and her face filled my view. At first, I had been immensely worried about her. She offered to take ten men, and no-one stopped her.

I had dredged up the scene of her standing triumphant over every boy in our class, and her corkscrewing through our skylight.

I had used every powerful action or words that had shone her in a strong and unbeatable light, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have let her take the men, and glued her to myself.

It seemed over pre cautious for a day old crush, but I knew I was falling, like I had never done for any other girl.

I rested my forehead against hers, and realised that she was just like us. She wasn't a robot, or a superhero, or God on earth; she was just like us, like me, with flaws. Imperfections. And that strengthened my longing for her to be mine. Well, not mine, but for her to want me as much as I wanted her.

For some reason, our temporary easement of our relationship ceased, deepened, and brought me closer to her, as if I had known her for a lifetime. I felt comfortable with her. Not nervous about the prospect of talking to her as I had been, but at ease.

I saw this reflected back at me in her eyes, the most part of the barriers around her falling away.

A sob racked through her body, bringing her face even closer to mine, and my eyes closed. I never wanted this moment to end. I was being selfish at that moment. Clearly she was in mental anguish, her friend was missing and I only cared about the moment happening now.

Her lips brushed against mine, as our figures shook with adrenaline and fatigue, touching briefly before Liz came tumbling through the door in front and crashed behind Cammie.

She launched her skinny arms around her hunched body and sobbed into her hair,

"You came, you came, you came...", repetitively.

"Always, Lizzie. Always.", came out Cammie's voice, dry and rough. I searched her eyes and found pain. My concern grew rapidly as my eyes raked her body, searching for injuries again. I found none and returned to her face before I realised that the mental anguish that I had seen before remained.

Questions ran through my mind, like what was causing her this pain? Was she scared for 'Lizzie', or was it something else? Those arose other questions from my mind; what had she and Nick parted for? What would cause you to turn around and walk away from your twin? Hardly anything. But it seemed like the 'hardly anything' had happened. Did she know who these people kidnapping Liz were?

Yes. She did. The recognition etched onto her face in my mental picture of when she faltered was true, not my mind playing tricks on me.

My eyes do not play tricks on me and I should hope that my mind could come up with something much more elaborate than that.

The girls now sat huddled together on the floor, united again, while I stood with Grant to the side.

She knew who these people were, all of the girls did. And I had to figure out what was haunting their eyes so much, and what I had gotten myself into.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please feel free to suggest plot ideas, all are welcome. Please Review! It helps me to write!**

 **BYE ;)**


	13. Chapter 13: And It All Burned Down

**Chapter 13: And It All Burned Down**

* * *

 **Previously…**

Yes. She did. The recognition etched onto her face in my mental picture of when she faltered was true, not my mind playing tricks on me.

My eyes do not play tricks on me and I should hope that my mind could come up with something much more elaborate than that.

The girls now sat huddled together on the floor, united again, while I stood with Grant to the side.

She knew who these people were, all the girls did. And I had to figure out what was haunting their eyes so much, and what I had gotten myself into.

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Cammie POV**

I came to, dragging a huge breath into my lungs. I felt a weight in my chest, but ignored it in my ignorant state. It didn't harm me, so I wouldn't harm it.

Ignorance really was bliss.

My senses gradually returned to me and the familiar area allowed my brain a few more seconds of rest before beginning to absorb all the details of my surroundings. I already knew Joe's house like I did the back of my hand, or the Gallagher Mansion. It was a place that would never change.

One of the things I could rely on was architecture.

Based on Liz's newfound knowledge of the science of phycology, she deduced that buildings, such as Gallagher, represented a symbol of something stable and constant for me.

She said that people come and go - considerably much faster in my line of work - and there were fewer happy backstories of our friends than there were melancholy. But, as the girls in the Gallagher Mansion came and went, the Mansion remained. It remained the same, it remained constant.

I had always felt safe in Gallagher. It was where the game paused, the arcade closed and I could sleep.

Take out the screaming details of the intricate walls and the long-gone Catherine, and I had home. And home is where the bed is.

I began to sit up, and finally acknowledged the obstructing weight on my torso. The weight turned out to be Zach.

I sat up completely and Zach rested his forehead on mine. I continued my ragged breaths, but my mind fizzed in confusion.

Our relationship had never been close, I can tell you that; we joked, made small talk, and that was it. And then there was the silent treatment. Or the as-close-as-you-could-probably-get-to-silent treatment.

But his hands gripped my arms with an urgency that I didn't have the heart to question, and I saw tears threatening to spill over. Tears that seemed to be attempting to hide the fear in his eyes.

It was a fear that I knew. It was a fear that frequently took my heart in its hands and squeezed, closing the gap between mental pain and physical agony.

The Zach before me was different.

It wasn't a Zach who was indifferent or nonchalant. It wasn't a Zach who flirted and boasted. It wasn't the Zach I had seen before.

The Zach before me seemed genuine. He seemed true. He seemed to _care_.

I felt relief course through my veins. I hadn't realized how worried about him I was. He had his cover, and I had wondered what was beneath. He had secluded himself and I had felt betrayed.

I barely knew him, let alone cared for him. Why would his reclusiveness affect me?!

But I did understand one thing.

This boy in front of me, he had the same fear of loss, that I had. He had felt the same presence of fear at losing me (not going to happen), that I had felt for him. That I had felt for everyone.

I felt our relationship deepen; go from halfway between acquaintances and loose friends to something similar to a lifelong companion. I hardly knew anything about him, but I knew him.

I felt the need to take care of him. I knew that he couldn't be left alone, because the fear of losing someone made you vulnerable. It made me almost lose myself within the dark corners of my imagination, dreaming up horrible ways it could all be stripped away from me.

The fear in his eyes was so potent, my mind was tricked into a reflection, my own fears coming through. I sobbed.

Liz.

I hadn't seen her anywhe-

My train of thought was cut off abruptly.

His lips were on mine, for the briefest of seconds, but his lips were on mine.

And I think I liked it.

.oO0Oo.

 **Zach POV**

The plane ride back to Blackthorne was uneventful. Liz spent it silently clinging onto an exhausted Macey, who was leaning on a dead asleep Nick (he slept like a rock). She had to practically carry Liz back to Gallagher because she froze up, soon after the fact that she was safe dawned on her. Apparently, she shared that trait with Cammie.

She hadn't spared an ounce of information about what had happened while she was gone, but we all noticed the thin, almost invisible, and thousands of cuts that had littered her bare arms.

It was one of the most serious forms of torture that I knew; one single huge cut hurt significantly less than hundreds if not thousands of cuts placed in certain places. You could compare a huge slit down your calf to a pinprick, compared to what she must have endured.

Bex was sitting on the floor with her head laid back against the wall. Jonas suspected she had a concussion, after she head-butted someone into unconsciousness.

She was in a mid-state that all the girls said that she had mastered, due to multiple previous concussions, of sleep. They said all she did was dull her senses, and enter a state of meditation almost, which allowed her to rest without falling asleep and maybe never waking up.

I never thought that Bex would be one to meditate.

I saw Grant sit down carefully next to her; he had a broken ankle and a large gash on his right arm that had been bandaged and set by Jonas, earning him a permanent expression of wincing, but that had worn off about 6 minutes ago.

He slid down the wall next to her, and undertook a similar stance as her, slowly sliding his hand into hers.

It was a bold move, but I saw both of the tension in their faces visibly ease with the contact.

They had grown the closest during the last few days, sparring together, eating together, working together, everything. It wasn't surprising that they comforted each other. I just hoped that Grant wouldn't get hurt.

While Liz piloted and Jonas co-piloted (after a detailed explanation of everything Cammie could remember about flight), Cammie had slumped down next to me.

We hadn't strayed far from each other since... the incident. I was afraid to jinx it.

I think she felt the same, but that could be my minds hopeful assumptions of her seeming comfort. It could be my misunderstanding of a vulnerable and currently unstable Cammie needing people around her. Or I could just be seeing things.

I didn't like any of them.

We were the only ones to come out unscathed, except for a massive bruise on my arm, and smaller ones on my knuckles.

These girls, they were unbelievably strong. Both physically and mentally. I would imagine I would have gone insane if I had suffered what Liz had, and the small petite belle was still here, even if it seemed like she was clutching at her sanity. They seemed to have gone through unbeatable odds, and that this was average. The panic, the fear, the adrenaline, and the heightened uncertainty. They certainly lived to the fullest, not knowing if they would live to the next day. They seemed to bring a certain more amount of emphasis on the latter, and their definition of full was much different to mine.

I wondered what had caused them to be so... good.

.oO0Oo.

By the time we had landed, Cammie's expression had morphed from exhaustion to blank to confused. I had watched her silent battle of the mind, and I found it quite amusing. Her brow had furrowed and she often wrinkled her nose, as if dismissing a thought. Despite the slight creepiness of my discreet staring and the seriousness of the situation, I was enjoying just watching her.

Now, you might be thinking, that's pretty creepy, but, what can I say?

As soon as we got out we were greeted by Mr. Solan and Mrs. Solan.

Cammie rushed up to them while the girls and Jonas slowly coaxed Liz out of the plane. They enveloped her into a hug, although I swore that she directed most of her hug to Mr. Solan. She drew back.

 **Cammie POV**

"Where's Aunt Abby?"

"She left not long after you for an emergency mission.", said mum.

The familiar phrase rang through my head, triggering alarm bells, though I didn't know what for. I opened my mouth to start another question but Joe beat me to it.

"I'm going to take over as your Cov Ops teacher.", he said with a smile.

My face visibly brightened at the news.

"Like old times."

"Like old times.", he confirmed.

I detached myself from mum and Joe, giving him a glance. He understood and I started off towards the woods. I picked up the pace once I hit the tree line and began jogging.

There was something wrong. Something in my mind did _not_ like the recent events, and it wasn't telling me. My mind and I, as you can probably tell, were not and have never been the best of friends. I came to a stop when I reached the top of a hill, breathing heavily. I laid down on the grass, relishing the warm breeze.

Who had kidnapped Lizzie? Obviously, it had to either someone who knew us or had some serious hacking skills. The note the kidnaper left us touched home on all of us. The _fish has gone_ was clearly Joe – Solomon = Fish. _The reptile has fired its first known gun,_ referred to me when I had shot the man who was going to kill Bex, _the bird had kept up,_ referred to Macey when she had run away and _the royalty made peace,_ referred to when Bex sort of forgave me for running away. I'm sure you can figure out the last one.

Zach POV

Cammie headed off into the woods while Mr. Solan nodded at me and Grant. We nodded back, an unspoken response to his silent thanks. Grant followed the girls and Nick to the infirmary (presumably), while I remained. I waited. I stood. I contemplated. I concluded.

I ran.

I threw myself into the vast woods, channeling the questions, the adrenaline, the curiosity into my legs, pushing myself into sparse undergrowth. Pushed myself into the unknown of what I had involved myself into, my friends into. My family into.

The curiosity of what haunted the girl's eyes, the fear and dread in their face, it easily drew out your nightmares and spun them around. Spun them into reality. Into corporeal beings.

The horror, now impressed in your mind, weaved to and fro through fate, merging the unreal and real. The imaginative and the definite. The horror of the mind and the horror of eyesight.

It was enough to make a normal man blind.

But I wasn't a normal man, and neither were the girls. So, we were forced to sit and watch the nightmares unravel before us, spilling from imagination into memories. Unrelenting and unremovable memories.

While I had sunken into my mind, I had brought myself to the lake. I paused, rising to the surface of harsh reality, taking deep breaths and gazing over the landscape. Scanning the landscape. Habit.

My eyes landed on a girl sat by the lakeside, cross legged and shaking. It wasn't hard to narrow down who it was.

I immediately sat down next to the girl, momentarily blinded by my lack of regular breathing before realizing the turmoil taking place not 30 centimeters next to me.

Cammie sat cross legged adjacent to me, her head supported by the fingertips pushing against her temple as she gazed down onto her lap. She muttered incomprehensible things under her breath, briefly looking slightly insane as she rocked slightly, her eyes wide and filled with panic.

I rested in my slight amusement till my breathing regulated and my mind matured.

In our line of work, the mind gets damaged. The competition between spies is not necessarily just that of your skill set, but of your mind. You had to be stable, or be able to control it. But there are few and rare instances when the spy's mental situation changes, or was simply never stable. These are usually seen in those who take the brunt of the horrors in the world, the world beyond the sadists and murderers and child abusers. It is that of the raped, murdered and abused. The aftermath of the former. That's the bit that kills you.

Now some are hardened by what they have seen, or have the sheer ability to deal with it and accept it. The hardened ones lose humanity, the judge inside of you. The hardened ones must leave this side of life, as they aren't equipped to continue this work, to know if what they are doing is right. And those who aren't hardened, who deal with and accept the sights they've seen, who struggle to maintain sanity and control, they survive.

And one of them was Cammie.

My concern grew, before my restlessness and curiosity sat on it.

"You know who took Liz, don't you?", I started.

She froze. And nodded almost imperceptibly, as if disagreeing with her affirmation.

"You've met them before, haven't you?" I continued, almost harshly.

She grew more frantic in her motionless state, her eyes dancing wildly, her throat hitching audibly with each breath she took. It was confirmation enough.

"You're scared of them, aren't you?"

A shaky, nervous laugh escaped her lips.

"That's one way to put it." She breathed, sounding, surprisingly, more stable than she looked.

"Mildly..." she trailed off, even quieter.

My line of questioning, although being harsh on her struggling self, was necessary for me.

Frustration was borne inside of me. She had dragged myself, not to mention her brother and an innocent (almost) friend into a mess that was terrifying. She had drawn us into this.

And that was why I was being harsh, pushing her mind to the limit. It quenched my anger.

Or so I thought.

My selfishness arose and my pride took over. I later regretted my next decisions.

She didn't know real fear, my mind said naively, whispering temptations in my ears.

I rose, my anger rolling off my shoulders in waves as I tried I hide it. I paced roughly beside her.

I stopped my hands on my hips and said,

"What could the great Cameron Solomon-Morgan, fear?"

She flinched.

"You don't know." She whispered, a sliver of a sound just reaching my ears.

"I don't know? I don't know?!", I roared, my anger besting me.

"I think I have a pretty good idea, Cameron." I said her name condescendingly. "I may have not lived your life, but I sure as hell don't not know. I'm sure I could easily sum up a pretty good comparison to this! Heck, I'm sure a four-year-old could!", I exploded, not really knowing what I was talking about, arguing for the sake of argument, sure my mother came to mind, but she had never met her and understood what real fear was. But I wasn't about to shove that in her face. Yet.

So far she hadn't reacted.

Her seeming nonchalance and far-away attention to my outburst infuriated me, could she not tell I was talking to her?! 'Yet' came sooner than I thought.

"You don't know the fear pumping through your veins when your own family comes home and discusses torture details freely and without a filter. You don't know the fear of being alone for months on end, because our own mother has taken a vacation to kill someone. You don't know the constant expectation of pain when you step out of line, princess.", I spat.

Months of bitterness poured out of my mouth, the desertion and mental toll spilling from my lips.

She seemed to break out of her self-torment and turned her steely brown eyes to mine. If looks could kill, I'd be dead twenty times over and ten feet under, but I held my ground.

"Yes, Zach. I rather think I do, actually.", she began, rising from the ground and heading towards me. My face portraying my arrogant disbelief at her sudden retaliation. "I believe I do know what it feels like when _your family_ comes chasing after me and everyone I've ever laid eyes on. I believe, if however faintly, that I know the fear of when _your mother_ comes and chases me halfway around the world. And I'm sure as hell that I know the constant expectation of pain when _your mother_ has me strapped down to a chair with knives in her hands. I'm sure as hell that I know what it feels like for my body to be a personal armory holder for her weapons. I know Zach, _I know."_

My arrogance preceded me and I didn't believe her. "Oh, I'm sure you do.", came my sarcastic response.

She snapped her head back to me. "Go ahead! Underestimate me! _I dare you.",_ she challenged.

I began to doubt my assumptions. _However_ , my mind argued, _she's not even out of school yet, how the hell would she know my mother_. She read the micro-expressions on my face and looked like she was contemplating something. She eventually grabbed her shirt by the collar and pulled, dragging the fitted shirt of her form. My eyes averted instantly in my confusion.

"What are you doing?", I asked exasperated, the previous anger beginning to ebb.

"Look."

"What?!"

"Just do it."

I looked. And I stared.

What I saw before me was pure horror, feeding the growing disgust inside me. But, it was a mastery. It was both horror inducing and awe-inspiring at the same time.

Scars crisscrossed her back, marring the toned muscles along her frame, ugly red. They were the scars that don't go pink and white with age, but went a deep scarlet and became more pronounced. And the worst part was the words written in torn skin on her lower back. The words were ones embedded in my brain, never to leave my memory; they read, jaggedly,

" _And it all burned down"_

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know it took ages for me to write, but I made it extra-long. Please feel free to suggest plot ideas, all are welcome! Please review! It gives me more incentive to write!**

 **BYE ;)**


	14. Chapter 14: Aftermath

**Chapter 14: Aftermath**

 **Previously...**

* * *

"Look."

"What?!"

"Just do it."

I looked. And I stared.

What I saw before me was pure horror, feeding the growing disgust inside me. But, it was a mastery. It was both horror inducing and awe-inspiring at the same time.

Scars crisscrossed her back, marring the toned muscles along her frame, ugly red. They were the scars that don't go pink and white with age, but went a deep scarlet and became more pronounced. And the worst part was the words written in torn skin on her lower back. The words were ones embedded in my brain, never to leave my memory; they read, jaggedly,

" _And it all burned down"_

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

I remembered. I lied, I said I didn't, I said couldn't remember where the horrible scars lacing my body came from.

But, I did. I didn't know, I still don't know, how to to tell the innocence that is Liz, the lost fighter of Bex and the neglected Macey. I don't know how to tell Mom, how to tell Joe, how to tell Aunt Abby; that I knew the pain we were taught to inflict felt like. I knew Pain, I knew her like I knew myself, a surprisingly not unexpected feat for me, but alarming to talk about with such familiarity nonetheless.

I stood there, my back bared to Zach as his wide eyes raked my skin. Or what was left of it, more like.

I glanced over my shoulder, my arms keeping the taught fabric of my shirt tight over my torso, observing his face.

I knew that he now knew that his mother did this, it was part of her lullaby after all.

The quote she had inscribed on myself had been laced with a chemical. It was one that delayed appearance; well, not exactly delayed, more like sped up. It had healed extremely fast, leaving me unawares of the offending marks as I had slipped in and out of consciousness. They had only deepened in colour and made themselves known when we were at Macey's hideaway of a mansion by the beach, fleeing the school of Max Edwards.

"I-I-.." I heard Zach stutter in awe and guilt.

"It's okay, Zach." I started. I wasn't angered by his outburst, I couldn't afford to be selfish and absorb myself in my own mental turmoil. I had confronted it and I was fine, now. The memory, however still present, had faded, leaving only but knowledge of the events that occurred, and not the accompanying trauma.

"I don't blame you Zach, you needed this," I gestured between us, "as much as I needed this." I said, waving my hand at where I had sat hunched, muttering like a schizophrenic.

"I'm sorry." He got out, stumbling over his words slightly. "I'm sorry for doubting you, I'm sorry for screaming at you, I'm sorry for what my mother did-" he became frantic, running his hands through his hair as he tore his eyes, still filled with shock, from my back.

I abandoned my dignity, leaving it to the sports bra I wore underneath, turned and walked to him. He backed up slightly, his eyes widening in fear, of me or if I would break, I don't know. But I knew they had crossed his mind because, they had crossed mine when I saw the scars. My scars. I still had yet to accept them as mine, rather than temporary bystanders.

I slipped my hands around his waist and leaned in, the action not feeeling unfamiliar as it should have, but comforting as I laid my cheek on his admittedly rather firm torso. He slowly brought his head down to my shoulder, his arms wrapping loosely round my shoulders as the tears dripped down.

His legs buckled in his turmoil, and he fell, dragging me down with him. I cradled his head, leaning against the willow tree behind me and started to slowly run my fingers through his unruly, rich auburn hair as he sobbed.

We stayed there for minutes, hours I don't remember, but eventually he calmed down and regulated his breathing, and I started to run my hands through his hair again, not for comfort, but for mere content. He shifted slightly, turning his head to rest on my torso, gazing at the lake in front of us. It was gorgeous; snow capped mountains cutting jaggedly through the skyline, held up by full, rich and golden trees. We sat comfortably, despite the bark pressing into my back, letting the silence fill the emptiness.

Silence really was golden.

Emphasis on 'was'.

"Cammie?"

I hmmmm'd in response.

"Who took Liz?"

My fingers trembled slightly in his locks, just for a second, but a second nonetheless. I knew he knew the answer, his tone said it all, but I fell for the bait.

"Catherine, Zach. Catherine. Or what's left of her anyways..."

Silence filled the crisp air once again.

"I'm sorry, Cam, I really am. For what she did, what I did. I-I'm sorry."

He gripped my arm comfortably.

"You don't have to be sorry. Like I said, we needed this. It's not your fault, and I shouldn't have dragged you into this without telling you who it was."

He fell silent, but my mind began to fizz again. Catherine's dead. We checked, we found her body, her DNA, the whole nine yards. Heck we even found the bodily fluids that escape the body once your muscles fall limp. So how could she be behind this? She is the one closest to this apart from us.

"Zach?" I began.

"Yeah?"

"You know that Catherine's dead, right?" I questioned, not bothering to soften the blow. He could take it, he had to take it.

"I had my suspicions... but, yes. I know."

I continued with my fizzing mind.

"So who is doing this?"

I felt his confusion rather than saw it.

"Was anyone else involved?" He asked tentatively. He didn't know the story, and I wasn't prepared to regale it either.

"Well, there was me, Bex, Macey, Liz, Joe, Mum and Aunt Abby; but that's in order of presence, so Abby wasn't there for much except the last bit."

A thought popped into my head.

"Wait, Nick told us that there was someone else in the tombs, with Catherine. We've no clue what happened to him, nothing, nil, nada. Maybe this is him."

He lifted himself off me, sat up and looked at me. "That sound like something Catherine would do... A behind the scenes agent with all the information, rather than bits and pieces like the rest. A sub-agent."

The silence took over as we mulled over what had been said.

And then we were running.

I grabbed my discarded shirt, the embarrassment kicking in slightly too late for my liking, threw it back on and sprinted after Zach, catching up with him. I fell into stride along side him and we increased our speed, shooting through the woods, towards the mansion.

.oO0Oo.

We tore through the hallways, turning a corner. Zach almost barrelled straight into the wall, but I grabbed his arm and swung him in the right direction, before a hole was made in the wall. He stumbled slightly at the sudden change of direction, his momentum almost throwing him on the floor. We skidded to a stop in the infirmary, disturbing the serene mood of the room.

Bex was sitting in the floor, sleeping soundly on Grant's shoulder, who was conversing with Nick. He was sitting on the chair, next to Macey who was also sleeping, lying down precariously on Liz's bed, looking like he was ready to catch her should she fall.

I took all of this in before I shot through the door, and startled everyone in the room.

Liz woke up, with her being a light sleeper, and yelled, "Cammie!", which caused Macey to fall off the bed and into Nicks awaiting arms. Nick had to come off the chair next to the bed in order to not drop a startled Macey, and steadied himself with his feet. His right foot pushed into Bex's hips, pushing her off Grant's shoulder and causing her to face-plant his lap.

We all looked mortified and Grant paled a few shades; Bex could not wake up like this, because Grant would probably not last the hour. I darted over to Bex, my amusement vanished, and gently lifted her head and placed it against his stiffened shoulder once more. I let go and cautiously took a few slow steps back and paused.

She mumbled incoherently in her sleep and buried her head back into Grants shoulder as we held our breath; Macey still in Nick's arms.

We let out a breath as one.

A smile tugged at Liz's lips as hey all turned to face us.

"You okay?" She asked, bemused.

"Yeah, we're fine." I replied, subtly suggesting that something had happened between me and Zach, even though she directed her question at me.

She caught on immediately, and kept her expression neutral, even her micro-expressions and didn't even glance at Zach.

"So what's wrong?" asked Grant softly, barely moving his form to talk, but using his eyes to refer to our sudden entrance.

I turned to Nick and he perked up, looking at me expectantly.

"You said you saw someone in the tombs? A man, you said that you thought he was her brother." I said, keeping names out of my question. He looked taken aback at my abruptness, but recovered quickly.

"Yes; I saw someone, but I've no idea what gender they were. All I did was hear their voice, and I assumed it was male, but it could have just as easily been female. I assumed they were brother and sister as they really comfortable with each other, as close as you four."

Well this widens our search a lot.

For someone to access the case file they would have to be someone of a high enough clearance level: 60 at least. The clearance level to know about last year was 61, and I only knew a few who had that type of clearance, beside the girls, and I hadn't even met them. I ruled them out.

"So it's someone we know." I pondered out loud.

I had a few blank stares pointed my way.

"Catherine couldn't have been behind this, she's dead, right?"

I was met with an array of affirmations.

"So who's behind this?"

Everyone paused till Nick said," Whoever was in the tombs."

"Took me." added Liz.

I turned to Liz and asked a silent question, to which she nodded almost imperceptibly.

"They knocked me out, and I only woke up after about... 4 and a half hours, I think, later. We were already there. I never saw thei-" she struggled for words. "I don't know what they looked like." she amended.

"They had a sort of material covering their faces that seemed to be apart of their clothing; smooth, no frays anywhere, and by my analysis, probably wouldn't leave a trace, so extremely unique."

Macey spoke up "Well that means that we either have a very good search criteria, or whoever this person is, made the clothing on their own."

.oO0Oo.

We sat huddled around Liz as she sat with her laptop in front of her, Jonas sat next to her doing clean up, tidying any evidence that she left behind as she browsed the networks coding.

He barely touched the keyboard.

Usually, it takes about 3 people to hack a website, or anything really, successfully: one person to disable any digital booby traps or alarms, one for the actual search and one for clean up. But she managed with ease, her eyes darting around the screen expertly.

"I've looked practically everywhere, and there's no company, normal or for spy use only, that produces a fabric or clothing with any similarities to the one I saw. They all have a visible woven pattern, which they didn't have, and seemed saggy slightly. Theirs was skin-tight."

We all slumped at the knowledge.

"But, I know for a fact, that if the material was to be stretchy, and have infinitesimally small stitches, it would have to contain latex. And then for the material to be completely untraceable or not leave a trace, it would have to be about sixty percent. There are sixty-six companies in the world, registered, that produce latex, so...", Liz trailed off, distracted by something on the screen, still mumbling slightly, speaking words only Jonas could understand.

"Wouldn't they buy the materials from a country that has the least amount of latex? They wouldn't be as popular, as their rubber exports would be much less, and much more expensive." asked Grant. We had woken up Bex, with her being none the wiser, which meant that Grant could move and speak freely as well as live through the day.

Liz glanced at him quickly and said, "Not necessarily. The less companies there are the easier it is to pinpoint certain clients inside them, as they have less buyers. The rubber is too expensive to be a main importer for any country, so they usually become a national company, rather than an Transnational one, or TNC, if you prefer. The places with the least exporters and sellers of latex are..." she finished typing with a flourish.

"Pakistan, Singapore, Sri Lanka and China, with three in Pakistan and Singapore, four in Sri Lanka and five in China."

"Well lets rule them out," began Zach. "What is the biggest exporter or seller of latex?"

"Vietnam."

"What's the second?", asked Jonas.

"Thailand."

"He/she probably went there then. If it was me, I wouldn't go for the last or the first, but probably the second. The first is too obvious and the last is too traceable; the second would probably have enough buyers to be popular, and therefore take more time to trace."

Liz smiled at him.

"How many companies are in Thailand?" I asked.

"Twelve." she replied, composing herself slightly.

I nodded in response and she resumed her typing.

"Okay I've run all the companies clients against any known aliases for anyone above the clearance level, and whomever they told."

I forgot that. The case file is under the same status as our code names. Classified: Subject chosen knowledge only. Stupid Chameleon.

"None of the registered or recorded aliases are clients." Liz's voice shook me out of my reverie. "However there is one that has a policy that states, and I quote, 'no information will be passed onto a third party. This is ensured through no digitally documented records being held'... blah-di-blah-di-blah..."

"Well that's probably where they got their latex."

Liz looked up from her keyboard with a rare mischievous glint her eye.

"Who fancies a trip to Vietnam?

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I'm so, so sorry for updating so late, but I will have to continue updating late because I have exams now. Anyways, I am welcome to all suggestions and criticism.**

 **BYE ;)**


	15. AN: PLEASE READ

**AN:**

 **Okay, so I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I think I'm going to do a second draft of this story. It seems a bit childish and the plot has so many holes, so I'm going to reattempt it in a more mature way.**

 **There will be swear words and some 'vivid' and gory scenes, but not too much. I wont go into massive detail, but it will be more raw.**

 **I realise that there were a lot of 'thinking' scenes, where all you saw was crazy, unattached things running through Cammie's mind, so I'm trying to eliminate that, and replace them with a better plot. most of the time I practically spelt out the plot, so this time I'm going to try and let the reader figure it out on their own.**

 **I hope you enjoy these changes, and thank you for bearing with me!**

 **BYE ;)**


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